The Lord and the Dark Mage
by Motley World Studios
Summary: Chrom has a peculiar craving for a Plegian dark mage to join him and the Shepherds. As he strides forth to save his Exalt sister Emmeryn, he gets more than what he bargained for when he comes across a lone dark mage on the day of Emmeryn's execution.
1. The Meeting of Two Worlds

_**Author Name: Blue Sun Studios**_

_**Date Began: January 28, 2015**_

_**Title: Fire Emblem: Awakening‒The **__**Lord**__** and the **__**Dark Mage**__** Chapter 1: The Meeting of Two Worlds**_

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_**Author's Introduction Notes:**__** hey there my peoples, this is **__**Blue Sun Studios**__** on the air with you all. Have no fear, **__**I'm**__** not dead or anything serious like that; **__**I've**__** just been in the worst creative slump ever **__**I've**__** ever had in **__**my**__** entire life and had a few unpleasant issues come up that **__**I**__** don't feel like talking about (how many times have **__**I**__** said that already? **__**I**__** lost count). Now this story is something that **__**I've**__** been wanting to write for some time; create a story where Chrom and Tharja actually interact with each other outside of Tharja's recruitment scene. There's next to no fan followings of these two together and no real content of them together being produced either, so **__**I**__** guess that this is something of a start; a fair warning here to you all though: the rating of the story may change with future installments because while mature rated themes may not be on **__**my**__** mind at the present they may be on **__**my**__** mind later on, so keep that in mind. And if you have any questions about what **__**I'm**__** doing with my other entries, feel free to send **__**me**__** a private message and not through the reviews; now that that's out of the way, don't forget to read the disclaimer below.**_

_**The following is a nonprofit, fan based fiction. Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon through Fire Emblem: Awakening are all owned by **__**Nintendo**__**Co.**__**, **__**Ltd**__**.**__** Please support the official releases. **__**WARNING:**__** this story in its entirety contains content that some viewers (i.e. you) may find inappropriate, offensive, and/or uncomfortable. If you are under the legal age of adulthood, unsure about reading this fiction, or some other third entity that shouldn't be here, **__**I**__** advise you not to view this. For those of you who are allowed to and are all set to read this, please rate and/or review at your own discretion.**_

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Plegia was starting to prove to be unfavorable territory for the Shepherds; the sandy ground was too unstable for those who weren't mages which was more than half of their ranks, the winds brought forth arid heat and more sand to buffet them‒another issue that could only be avoided by mages‒and the enemy had little-to-no problem fighting in these conditions seeing as it was their home turf. True to their credit however, the Shepherds had not been discouraged by any of this; it instead seemed to spur them on to fight more than they ever had, especially to rescue their fair exalt Emmeryn. Chrom, while having Emmeryn's rescue as his top priority, had other things currently on his mind.

Since the beginning of the war Chrom had come face-to-face with some of Plegia's most feared units‒the dark mages. These units were cut from a different cloth than that of normal mages, he could tell that much having fought one of them himself. In comparison they may have had slightly less raw magical strength and were somewhat lacking in accuracy and evasion, they more than made up for it by simply being sturdier soldiers. And that was just the tip of the iceberg; they possessed extensive knowledge of the fearsome dark arts in conjunction with anima arts, nearly all of which differed from the latter by having nebulous combat effects, such as life-stealing to name just one of them. If only Chrom could enlist one of them, preferably from Plegia, then he'd have quite a powerful unit under his command; the Shepherds could benefit from such a figure in their ranks.

"How's progress coming along Robin?" the prince shouted through the harsh winds to his tactician behind him. "So far so good," they shouted back, "but why exactly are you in the very front?" "No particular reason," he answered, "the quicker we get to Emmeryn, the better." "I hear you on that one."

Chrom didn't tell his tactician that he was planning on recruiting a dark mage, who would almost invariably be an enemy. He would get to them first before the others did though; if any of the others reached any dark mages before he did he may not even get a chance to get them to defect to the Shepherds' side. So he made sure he stayed ahead of the pack for that specific reason, not that he'd let them in on it. He kept trudging onwards into the sandstorm that threatened to sand down his eyes into pulp while making sure his left hand did not leave the high courtyard walls' sides, and when he felt that he rounded a corner he could also notice that the sand wasn't harassing him as it was before; he removed his sword arm from his eyes to scan this new location. Before him was a vast swath of earth that stretched into the horizon for miles, two fortresses could be spotted not too far off in the distance, and it appeared as though the rest of the landscape would be barren plains as opposed to the sand of the desert. He looked to be not too far behind in reaching his destination soon.

"Huh, looks like the terrains should pose less of a problem to us now, right Robin? …Robin?" His tactician wasn't by his side like they usually were, and he couldn't see any of the other Shepherds either. "Oh dear Naga almighty…I just pray that they kept their hands to the walls…" He would go back into the sandstorm to see if he could find any of his fellow Shepherds and make sure that they weren't hopelessly wandering the desert on their own. Yet something told him to persevere on, to stop worrying about his soldiers so much as they were competent troops, and told him of his missions here: to rescue Emmeryn and to find a suitable dark mage to recruit as his own. So onwards he pressed to his destination, hoping that he would come across such a willing turncoat on the way.

"It's the princeling!" some wyvern rider bellowed as the royal dashed off under the harsh sun. "Quick, let's deliver his head to King Gangrel as a present!" _'Not a chance in the seven Hells…'_ Chrom darkly thought as he pulled Falchion from its scabbard and shifted into a defensive stance. Four wyvern riders had caught up to him and were closing in fast; these unfortunate fools didn't know who they were messing with. The prince swiftly moved in fluid yet decisive movements that ultimately put down both man and wyvern as they all charged at him, thwarting their ambush. Wyverns and their riders were both fatally weak against Falchion's dragon slaying might. "Hmph, to throw their lives away so callously…all the more reason to put Gangrel into the ground." He sped off again into the wide wasteland intent on routing the enemy forces occupying the two fortresses that stood before the courtyard. It would do him good to have that little issue out of the way before he attempted to put this plan into motion, especially once the rest of his forces had caught up. _'C'mon Robin, pull through on this one. We can''t have you dying on us now of all times__; if this fails…_no_, we _won't_ fail, we _CAN'T_ fail. Not here, not now…'_

It was a seven minute sprint to reach the first fortress to come up. Not one to waste any valuable time here Chrom pulled out his weapon and began cutting down the nearest enemies within his range before he made it into the next section of the stronghold. He cared little for if the enemy was now readily aware of his presence in their base, they would not be able to stop him from achieving his goal. Any Plegian ruffian that came his way, whether it had been a simple soldier to an officer, they would fall to his deeper resolve and Falchion. The walls of the fortress boomed with the wails of the unfortunate souls who faced the commander of the Shepherds, the clashing and scraping of metal against metal, and the spurts of blood being sprayed everywhere, the shredding of flesh, and the crunching of bones. Some even tried to escape his wrath but they were too slow, too late, to halt their own demise at his hands. The prince made sure to check every nook and cranny in the stronghold to ascertain that there were no remnants of the Plegian entourage present.

_'Good, that's one fortress down,'_ he concluded to himself, _'but I still haven't come into contact with a single dark mage strangely, let alone one willing to join me…maybe I'm simply not fated to meet one on this date…hopefully the next fortress will provide me with what I seek…'_ He took his leave from the now vacant enemy foothold and moved on to the next one in swift fashion. The distance the trip covered was considerably shorter then Chrom had thought, but it didn't matter to him now. Right now he needed to do a little "pest control" before he moved on to the courtyard he passed by on his way here. Again, soldiers rushed at him in futile displays to even slow him in the slightest; he moved like a man possessed running solely on annihilating the enemy before him without hesitation. Blood flied everywhere in this keep of war, splattering all over the walls and onto the prince, painting him a menacing messenger of unrestrained bloodlust. The keeper of the fortress had come down from his watch and did battle with the prince, fully expecting to take him out in short notice. He never got the chance to register that he was in extreme pain by the time Chrom had made to behead him in a single stroke. He looked on at the remainders; fear was etched into their expressions but their actions betrayed their emotions, wildly charging at their executioner in a blind fit rage. None had stood victorious against him, each one falling into a heap of blood as the prince had put them down without so much as sweating. He looked upon the carnage he had wreaked with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

"I can hardly believe that Gangrel had decided to station cannon fodder here as a means of defense…maybe he's saving his finest for me to waltz right into, expecting me to take the bait. Well, if he wants to sends out his finest then let him. I will mow down anyone and everyone he throws at me. He _will_ perish before long and we _will_ save Emmeryn and Ylisse from his tyranny." He double checked the base he ravaged before heading out to his final destination: the courtyard, Emmeryn's place of "execution". As he traversed outside he took his gaze to the sky and took notice of the sun; it was almost as if it was a Plegian sun deity trying to smite him and hinder his progress by causing him to pass out in this heat. _'Fat chance of that coming to pass…'_ His eyes locked onto the wide gates far right in front of him, and they appeared to be welcoming him in to his doom. "Who am I to keep my hosts waiting?" Before he could welcome his inviters a single voice from behind him froze him in his tracks.

"Tch, so _this_ is the Ylissean prince?" Chrom quickly snapped about to face the brazen voice when he met with a rather welcoming sight; a lone woman stood before his eyes, and she was rather alluring in appearance. She faced him in the same form-fitting garments that all dark mages wore which did nothing to hide her slim and curvy physique, her hair was a rich jet black hue that draped over her face and was fashioned into two ponytails in the back, her pale yet supple skin was a stark contrast to the dark-colors all about her attire and was an anomaly in the harsh wasteland climate like this, and her eyes, though uninterested in expression, held a deep violet that burned into his own rich blue orbs and beheld an aura of foreboding darkness. A single hand clutched a purple tome of sorts slightly below her chest which Chrom could not avoid examining their modest size. Chrom had come upon a bonafide Plegian beauty, and she was a dark mage no less. _'Heh, looks like I've finally found my target.'_ He would be sure to not let this opportunity pass him up, a practitioner of the dark arts who happens to be very easy on his eyes.

"The name's Chrom, Prince Chrom of Ylisse. Might I have your name?" Of course, he was still here on business so he vowed not to get _too_ caught up with her seeing as how she could also be a soldier of Gangrel's; the mission came first but he had to make sure that he secured a hold on her before long.

"Wanting to know the name of your enemy before either one of us could die here? Interesting…" Her tone held no mirth or emotion despite how smooth her voice sounded. "Eh, why not? You can call me…_Tharja_…"

* * *

"_Hot_ _damn_!" Vaike shouted in his usual boisterous manner. "Somebody done tore this joint UP!"

"And still no sign of Milord anywhere," Frederick breathed out in exasperation. "Where could he be? I pray that no serious harm has befallen him when we were separated…" "I don't believe the gods would wish such a horrid fate on our lord," a holy figure consoled the knight. "I do believe that he is out there in the harsh climate fighting with all he has to bring back our dear Exalt home." "I do wish that you're right about that?"

"Pray tell, who is this noble maiden before us?" Virion asked aloud, obviously charmed by the clergy's appearance. "My name is Libra sir," the clergy responded, "and not to sound rude or anything of the sort, but, I am a man, not a maiden." "Yes of course you a‒wait, did you say "you are a man"?" "Yes sir, a man" "Er, I ehm, *ahem* that is to say…er, my apologies my good man."

"Everybody be making with the quieting!" an aged mercenary bellowed. "Gregor has found clue to missing prince-man yes?" "Permit me to investigate further," Miriel volunteered. The rest of the Shepherds had crowded around the mage to see what had been discovered. After analyzing the spot for an extra 20 seconds Miriel proclaimed "How edifying. These blood-stained boot indentations are exact matches for Lord Chrom's own footwear." "So we discovered his foot prints?" Stahl asked, "That's a relief! Maybe we can track them down and see where old man Chrom is!"

"He's not here," Panne's voice came immediately, causing the other to look at her with funny expressions. "The manspawn prince was here but not anymore. Even amidst this lingering stench of death in the air I could make out his presence being here." "But if he's not here then where could he have gone?" Frederick was becoming increasingly nervous about Chrom's disappearance and began fretting for the man's wellbeing. "Hey, cheer up Freddy-bear!" Lissa chimed in. "We may have lost him but we'll get him back! Now we just have to find more clues…"

"Hey guys!" Robin called out to everyone. "Look, bloody footprints leading outside of here heading this-a-way!" The entire gang of soldiers came over to their tactician, Miriel being the first to examine the footprints. "Whaddya think Miriel? They match up to Chrom's at all?" "Verily so Robin," she confirmed, "They carry the same shape and patterns as the ones inside of the former enemy keep." "And they're leading all the way over in that direction." "Well then, we have no time to waste!" Frederick rallied the Shepherds and gave the command to march where the red bootprints had led them, with Panne leading the way to keep track of Chrom's scent. Sumia and Cordelia stuck to the air to see if they could find their missing prince amongst the vast stretch of terrain, and sure enough once they made it closer to the courtyard's entrance…

"Look!" Sumia exclaimed. "I think I can see another fort dead ahead! Looks like we're on the right track people!" "Careful Sumia, it might be a trap…" Cordelia warned. "I think it's best that we fly lower to the ground to avoid getting spotted, alright?" "Already one step ahead of you!" The two pegasus knights descended closer to where the rest of the Shepherds were, following Panne into their fourth fortress that day. This one, like the one before it, was totally trashed from a great massacre that took place sometime before their arrival.

"Well I'll be damned," Sully said. "Looks like someone went to town on this fort here." "Probably Chrom," Vaike added, "no wonder he always holds back on me when we train! Man, I need some catching up to do." Panne walked about the bloodstained floor, her nose hung into the air as she surveyed the dead stronghold. The stench of fresh death had assaulted her nose greatly alongside the scent of the manspawn prince's presence. This slaughter was not of him, though he did create it, confirming to the Taguel that this bloodshed was his handiwork. But the manspawn himself did not stay around long enough to admire his craft of death. "The prince lives," she stated. "I had not imagined the prince a savage advocate of war and death." "What's that supposed to mean?" Frederick asked, not capable of picturing his lord as a man of mass murder. "I can smell his essence here and no one else's bar the enemy's; the manspawn prince's own blood I cannot detect. Look at the bodies about you." The rest of the Shepherds had surveyed the corpses strewn about them; none of them were Chrom's but they were sufficiently devastated. This was a scary thought for some of them; they didn't want to picture Chrom as a ruthless murderer but if this was indeed his handiwork then they must have severely underestimated their lord's capacity for combat.

"Well since he isn't here," Robin started, "where is he now?" "The strongest trail of his scent was through the way we came from; these two strongholds are rested adjacent to the courtyard's entrance." "Maybe we should head to the courtyard then?" Robin asked. "Chrom must be already over there. I mean there's nowhere else I would think he would be right now. Shepherds! We march for the courtyard; I have a hunch that that's where we'll find our missing leader." With no objections the others followed their tactician out of the base and backtracked to find the entrance to their original destination. Not too worn out from the treks here and there the vigilante group steady kept moving forward with the intent to regroup with Chrom and rescue Emmeryn. "I can smell the manspawn prince dead ahead," Panne added. "His scent is stronger than ever now. But I can also make out another smell mixed with his." "Is it a familiar entity?" "No, it is not, at least not to me. The smell reeks with darkness; I suspect that it is a dark mage near the manspawn." "Milord must be in potential danger then!" Frederick stated. "We must make haste; who knows what could happen?!" With renewed confidence the group sped off to hurry and reunite with their leader.

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"So, what's a royal of another country doing all the way out here?" Tharja asked the man before her, not sounded anything more than bored. "I figured that most born of royalty usually stay in their palaces or whatever fancy home they have, tending to political stuff." The inquiry didn't offend Chrom in the slightest, taking it how it was rather than an insult. "I guess that I'm not like most royals then," he answered. "I don't necessarily excel in diplomacy and politics, so I lead my army‒the Shepherds‒instead. The more important matters are handled by my sister, the Exalt, until I think that I'm ready to tackle them." "I see…" He could see her staring at him, analyzing him as her dark eyes scanned him up and down. What was going on in her mind Chrom wondered; then he looked at himself and found his form splotched with the blood of his enemies, most likely her allies. Their eyes met again after a minute of them both inspecting him; Tharja's face remained aloof while Chrom's shifted into uncertainty. _'This one's hard to read…she hasn't shown any emotion at anything so far, not even my‒er, unsightly appearance…hopefully I can maintain this absence of negatives, but I do wish I can get a positive out of this.'_

"Looks like it was a real slaughter that you went through," Tharja stated after a minute of silence. "Must have been cannon fodder I'm guessing." Chrom was almost astounded at how not even the deaths of her comrades seemed to faze her, labeling them as cannon fodder even. Before he could say something she spoke again. "Then again the king always throws out small fries at the enemy to give them delusions of victory, all the while luring them into the dragon's den." "Dragon's den?" "Basically he saves his most powerful and sometimes the most vicious officers to deal with the enemy after he softened them up with easy kills." "Funny, I was actually thinking that he must have been doing that. Would you happen to know of his finest warriors then?" "He's got a general named Campari right in front of the courtyard entrance. Pretty stubborn, won't go down without a fight, but if he's killed then the rest of the army should disperse for now…" "I'm…not to be rude or anything, but, why exactly are you telling me all of this? Aren't they your comrades? Isn't this your country?" For the third time that day the dark mage's eyes threatened to burn holes in him even if she didn't appear to be channeling malice herself.

"…You asked and I answered. Simple as that. If my "comrades" want to throw their lives away for this war then they can go ahead. I don't particularly like any of them anyways so whatever, it's their call." "…And your country?" "My country? Eh, not that I hate it or anything, I'm just not the type to stick my neck out for it, for better or worse." Chrom didn't know how to feel about her response but he simply let it be for now and moved on to another question. "You yourself don't seem to be in any mood to get involved in the fighting." "We're all going to die one of these days, but why should I invite in my own demise so soon? To fight for a cause that I could care less for? Pfft." "I see, so you don't want to partake in this war?" "Well, I'm trying to keep my options open; if I am to die either on the battlefield to some enemy soldier because I carried out my king's wish or die by my king's hand for refusal to partake in his campaign then I'll simply take whatever I perceive to be the lesser poison. Wouldn't you?" "I…I'm not sure if I can answer that at the moment." "I'm sure you can. Let's say that you, right now, had a choice between fighting for a cause that you don't believe in at the behest of your sister‒" Tharja saw how Chrom looked to be ready to interject but she killed the response while it was still in his throat with but a single finger. "Not that I honestly think that she would want you do something you don't want to, but for the sake of conversation or whatever, let's just say that she commands you to go out and slaughter everyone who didn't follow whatever church she happens to follow, right now, would you do it?"

"Of course not," Chrom indignantly answered on a reflex. Awkwardly coughing after the slip, Chrom decided to give Tharja a thought out answer. "I cannot, at this moment, bring myself to carry out her wish. I would defy her." "Okay then, but what if‒emphasis on "what if"‒she tells you that if you don't that she will personally have you murdered?" "I still wouldn't do it," Chrom answered again, the answer already clear in his mind. "Good, good, now…what if she decided to up the ante by threatening to kill them all herself for your disobedience?" "I would do whatever it took to stop her from doing so." "What if she threatened the life of someone dear to you and threatened to kill everyone you loved each day until you willingly relented? Do you think that you, right now, could withstand all of your close ones' deaths and not go crazy with hatred if you disobeyed your sister to the bitter end? Do you think that you have the strength to defy her to the bitter end to begin with? And even if you did resist her and after everything is said and done, was your act of defiance worth all of the pain that you and possibly everyone else had to go through?" Chrom didn't immediately respond this time because he didn't have a response to such a question. She did say that it was all hypothetical situations and that it was unlikely to happen now, but if such circumstances were true, would he still uphold his sense of right and wrong, his sense of justice, and would it be worth upholding it through every situation? For the first time in his life, he felt that he couldn't answer a question asked of him. "It shouldn't be that hard to figure it out. What would you honestly do in each of those situations if you could make a choice?"

"…I don't think that I can‒I mean, I don't think I _should_ answer your question right now. I hate to end this conversation so soon but I have my sister to rescue right now. That was my objective here and I should be getting back to it." "Sure, go ahead and rescue your sister or whatever." "You…will you still be available when I have accomplished my mission here?" "I don't know; I could be dead by the time you get back, or you might get killed either before or after you rescue your sister. Who knows what the future holds…I might but I can't divine it at the moment." Chrom did not want this opportunity to slip through his fingers, not after he had come so close. "May I ask you something?" "Don't you have somewhere to be?" "I‒I do, it's just…will you‒I mean, _may_ I have you accompany me there?" "What for?" "Well, um, I…I believe that you could help me in saving Emmeryn." Chrom was starting to find it very eerie that Tharja still held her whatever expression since he first saw her. "You're hiding something," she bluntly told him. "I may not be able to currently see into the future but just looking at you right now tells me that you're not being honest with me." "Uh, I er, well…I actually also wanted to find a dark mage to recruit into my army and well, you're here and‒" "You would want to recruit me? To trust me? What if this is all just a ruse to lower your guard and stab you in the back the moment an opportunity comes up?" "I'll take that chance. I believe that my sister would trust you; I'm trying to learn from her and better myself by adopting some of her best qualities into me. And even if this is just a ploy, I would still have to watch my back anyways, whether you came with me or not, and that's not just counting this battlefield either." "And yet that's still not the only reason you want me around I'm betting," Tharja deduced. "There has to be another reason you want me to join you besides what you've told me up to now." The dark mage was on to him now, and he indeed had one other reason why he desires her to accompany him. He really wanted to keep her though, and he was going to tell her exactly why he wanted her even if he ended up offending her or if she laughed at him. He gathered up his courage and proceeded to tell her the truth while trying to fight of the hot blush creeping onto his face.

"*Ahem* Yes, there is another reason I want you to come with me. It's because you…I find you to be an interesting person whose company I enjoy to some extent and…you're very…beautiful." Chrom could feel the oncoming ridicule he was sure to get because he swore that Tharja actually raised an eyebrow at him, a change from the deadpan look she had. "Really?" she asked him, this time with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Well, it's the truth you wanted, right?" "Pretty much, and I guess that that explains why you were eyeing me up like some tantalizing piece of meat earlier," she said to him, her lips now curled into a smirk, "Are you sure that you're going to be okay enough having a Plegian "bombshell" like me tagging along?" "I-I'll be fine." "Really?" "Positive?" she asked again with a full blown grin on her face, "I don't know, I'd be quite a liability if my commander can't keep his eyes off of me for ten seconds or so." "I‒I can prove it to you! Your looks won't be…too much of a distraction I can assure you." "Really now? Well, how about it then?" Chrom watched as Tharja slowly shifted into what he could only make out as a battle stance, her legs crooked in position, purple tome floating out of her grasp held aloft by dark power with its pages opened while what appeared to be an Elthunder tome levitated out from behind her and to her side, crackling with electric energy and opening its pages as well. "A little sparring match should be efficient enough to test that claim. I'll consider you focused enough not to be distracted by the sexy if you manage to beat me one-on-one. How's that sound?" "Perfectly fine by me." "Good."

Before long a dark light began creeping out of her purple tome and onto her left hand while the Elthunder tome surged electricity into her right, surrounding them with their power, and a thick violet and red aura emanated off of her entirety in a slow blaze. If Chrom thought that this was an intimidating sight he would soon change his mind, as two ghastly arms colored pitch black and surrounded with either a violet or red outline clawed their way out of her chest, the red appendage attaching itself inside of Chrom's own chest while the violet one simply floated freely near the dark mage.

"Gah!" he shouted in surprise. "Wh-what is this? A dark art of yours?" "It's called "_**Anathema**_": it's a curse that doesn't cause any harm but it does cause all of my victims within a three yard radius of me to fail evading my attacks and possible "critical strikes" ten percent of the time. This one is called "_**Hex**_": it's the same as Anathema but it affects everyone within a single yard of me and causes them to fail avoiding my attacks fifteen percent of the time. Both of these curses' effects stack if I have them both out, which I do right now, meaning my one yard victims will have a twenty-five percentage of failing to dodge my magic. Oh, and this tome I have to my right? It's called "_**Nosferatu**_"." "I've dealt with someone who used a Nosferatu tome before." "Good, that way you'll know to try to avoid it whenever you can…_if_ you can …" The first time she laughed Chrom expected it to be that of a deadpan chuckle, but it was that of a sinister giggle that just sent the worst of chills up his spine. He drew forth his own weapon, his trusted Falchion, and held it in front of him as the battle was about to commence…

* * *

"Is that the courtyard entrance I see up ahead?" Robin called out to the fliers above them. "Yes Robin!" Sumia replied. "If we hurry we might be able to catch Chrom before anything bad happens to him!" Cordelia could've sworn that she was seeing things so she leaned from her pegasus to take a better look; two specks were spotted just before the gates, standing in a stare down fashion. As they got closer and closer Cordelia could make out the figure of‒

"Chrom!" she shouted in slight excitement, catching everyone's attention. "Everyone, I can see Lord Chrom dead ahead! And…I see him standing before what looks like a dark mage!" "What're they doing?" Robin yelled back up to Cordelia. "It looks like they're both getting ready to battle each other!" "Quickly everyone, Milord's very life could depend on it!" Frederick bellowed to the rest of the Shepherds, and in response everyone gained speed to rendezvous with their leader and assist him. Chrom and Tharja themselves kept the other in their sights as they both walked about in a predatory manner, waiting to see who would strike first or spot an opening that they could use to their advantage.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly;" Chrom started while keeping his stance, "if I defeat you here and now, you will join me as an official member of the Shepherds?" "Sure, why not?" Tharja said to him. "That's why you stuck around this long right?" "And if you defeat me?" Chrom asked. Tharja's smile widened further with a wicked glee. "If I win, you'll agree to be my personal slave. You'll keep everything you own, halidom included and all that other jazz, but you'll be required to answer to me above all else, maybe except for your sister, and if you don't I have clearance to punish you however I see fit. Don't worry, I won't ask of you anything particularly _heinous_…" "Agreed," Chrom said without hesitation or second thoughts. "I'm asking you to become subservient to me so I suppose that it's fair that your reward will be the same thing." And just as they both prepared to pounce forth at each other the sound of rapid footsteps, hooves, and wing beating caught their ears. Their faces shifting to confusion they both wondered who those sounds belonged to, and just as they swiftly turned around they were greeted with the sight of the entire Shepherds on their way over to their spot, all of them armed and ready for a brawl. "Who're they?" Tharja asked with disinterest. "They're the Shepherds that I command. I came here with them to save Emmeryn and stop Gangrel's war but I was separated from them back at the desert." "And I'm assuming that they're here to help you?" "With saving Emmeryn, yes, but with this duel, no." The two of them remained in their battle stances as the Shepherds had finally stopped right before them. _'Damnit,'_ Chrom thought to himself. _'I wish that I had gotten this done before they showed up…'_

"Chrom!" Robin said, relieved that they finally caught up with their partner. "Thank the Gods that you're safe! We've been‒wh-what the?" Chrom wondered why they all started giving him shocked or quizzical expressions. "Uh, guys? What's with the weird looks you're giving me?" "Milord, may I ask what that is protruding from your chest?" Confused at what Frederick asked him he gave him a lifted eyebrow. "Protruding out of my chest? What are you talking abou‒…_oh_…" He honestly forgot about the Anathema curse that he was under and saw how it trailed all the way back to Tharja's own chest. Naturally, the others got into a defensive positon while Frederick took a threatening advance closer to the dark mage atop his horse, his face showing how ready he was to mow her down at a moment's notice. "I take it that _you're_ the one responsible for this? What exactly did you do to our leader?" Tharja herself adopted a face that would've had anyone else their recoil in fear bar a select few which included Frederick. "It's a curse. A nonlethal combat curse." "What does it do?" "Frederick listen," Chrom tried to tell him but was cut off by his knight, who kept his focus on the dark mage below him. "Milord, I would ask of this woman to explain the curse herself and then for you to confirm if it is indeed what she claims. Now, what exactly does this curse entail?" "It's called Anathema; it affects everyone within a three yard radius and subjects them to fail evading my attacks and critical strikes by an added ten percentage." "Oh, _everyone_ you say? Then tell me why _I_ haven't been affected by this curse, or rather _everyone_ _else_ _except_ _Chrom_?"

"You want to start something _tin-man_?" Tharja growled at him who refused to wilt even slightly under her hateful gaze, "because I swear that I will put this curse on you and everyone else if you want with an honest-to-the-gods smile on my face…" "She does not lie," Panne called out to Frederick, "only the truth has been spoken." Frederick remained where he stood staring down at the dark mage who fiercely responded in kind for a half a minute, then turned to Chrom. "Is this not what she told you Milord?" "It's exactly what she told me. Not word for word but that is the exact same description." Frederick turned his eyes back to Tharja still demanding more answers. "And what of the other arm that protrudes from your being? Is it similar or different?" "It's Hex; it does the same thing as Anathema but only works on those within one yard of me and has an added fifteen percent of failed evades." "She still speaks the truth," Panne confirmed, but Frederick wasn't finished yet. "If all of that is true then why does the Anathema curses only affect Chrom?" "It and Hex will only activate if I believe that someone is going to fight me without any shadow of doubt." "So you don't willingly trigger it?" Chrom asked Tharja. "The curse is strictly linked to my own thoughts about whether or not someone is going to attack me, so no manual trigger." "She is still telling the truth," Panne added, to which Tharja finally decided to question the way she knew. "Not that I have any reason to lie to any of you, how exactly did you know that I was telling the truth?" "The Taguel can feel when another is either truthful or deceitful. It lies in our increased hearing ability." "Tharja had no idea what a Taguel was so she figured that it was magic related; that's how she always figured things out. Now Robin had a question to ask the dark mage and Chrom.

"If you two are truly about to fight each other, would you care to tell us all why exactly?" As much as Chrom didn't want to let them in on it, he at this point had little favorable choice but to tell them of his plans. Panne would expose any of his lies that he could invent anyways so he faced them with as much dignity as he could.

"We are about to duel with each other." "Duel with each other? Here and now? Chrom, you know that‒" "I am very well aware of the situation Robin. Don't you think I know that?" "Then why this?" "I wish to recruit her into the Shepherds, she'll only agree if I defeat her in a duel between _us_." Robin did not miss how Chrom emphasized "us" which meant "me and her alone, no interferences". But as always as Robin knew, there was also the other person asking for a prize upon _their_ victory. Before they could confirm this Chrom cut off their thoughts with a question. "Isn't that the courtyard past us?" "Well yes but‒" "In that case I command you to take the Shepherds with you then. Take out a man named Campari; if he's down then the rest of whatever enemy soldiers who are still around should flee." "Wait a minute Chrom, aren't you‒" "Going with you? I will catch up with you once I am finished here but I will not be escorting you there." "Wait, what?" Vaike questioned. "Dude, are you losing your mind?" "This is not something that I will pass up on Vaike; you are all going with Robin for now and that is an order." "Chrom, this is‒we need you for this to work!" "Did I not ask you to design this plan so that it will still come to pass in the absence of either one of us in the first place?" Robin flinched at the commanding tone that Chrom spoke to them with; now they were convinced that this woman had done something to him. "The plan was for either me or you to signal Phila's Pegasus Knight Squadron that they have clearance in the sky to carry Emmeryn to safety. If Tharja was not here and had I not planned on recruiting her into the Shepherds army then I would have simply saved you the trouble of doing so and would have done it myself. Let me ask you again: how much does this plan depend on my presence alone to succeed?" "It…doesn't…" "That's exactly what I thought." "Chrom, come on…" "I'm staying here to carry out what I said I was going to do before I reunite with you." "But‒" "I had already made up my mind on enlisting a dark mage before we had departed here, and Tharja here had nothing to do with it. I'm not sending you out to finish this up because I don't feel like it; I will join you once I am finished here. And relax, no one is killing anyone here. Now go on to the courtyard; that's an order." Part of Robin wanted to tell Chrom that he didn't have to listen to him all the time but he didn't want to waste any more time here; Chrom seemed dead set on this and he entrusted Robin to be a leader in his steed. "Alright, you win this one Chrom. Come one everyone, Chrom will join us when he's finished with his duel, but let's not hold up for him; he's trusting us to give it all we got for this one." As much as the others, especially Frederick, still didn't like this idea, they decided not to go against their leader's wishes. So they marched on into the courtyard, each one passing Chrom a worried glance bar Panne who kept her eyes ahead. Once they had all made it through Chrom turned his attention back to Tharja. "Glad to have that issue out of the way. Now then, what say we pick up where we last left off?" "About time," Tharja agreed, getting back into a battle position as did Chrom, "I was starting to get bored enough to lose interest in this." And as they had their weapons prepped and stances ready, Chrom dashed off to strike Tharja with Falchion just as she charged her right hand with Elthunder. And then, they clashed.


	2. When Darkness Begets Light

_**Author Name: Blue Sun Studios**_

_**Date Began: February 3, 2015**_

_**Title: Fire Emblem: Awakening**__**‒**__**The Lord and the Dark Mage Chapter 2: When Darkness Begets Light**_

* * *

Chrom landed the first successful blow of the duel, lightly grazing Tharja's left shoulder as she attempted to evade. The lord honestly wished that he had a training weapon for occasions like this but it was impractical to keep around outside of training itself, especially in war times. But now it was most likely his turn to take a blow from the dark mage; he had stepped within the range of her Hex curse which made him more likely to fail evading her attacks and more susceptible to critical strikes as the violet hand attached itself into him. And sure enough, the Plegian dark magic user cast her Elthunder spell on him, and try as he might the curses took hold of him while the nebulous lightning bolt from above crashed onto him.

"_Gyah!_" he screamed out in pain. That Elthunder spell was sure to leave a mark Chrom thought, and from that hit alone he knew he couldn't take much more of that kind of magic.

"Bet you never had to face a dark mage like me before right?" Tharja dully quipped. "Well, you _did_ want to do this so I can't I feel _too_ bad about blasting you."

"If you think that a d-class thunder tome will make me keel over so soon then think again!" Chrom could see a smirk tug at her lips at the statement and she readied another Elthunder spell to strike with, this one hitting home as its predecessor before it had done due to Chrom's poor luck in evasion, but this did little to slow the prince as he struck the rather confident woman again with his Falchion sword, this time aiming for her legs to reduce her overall mobility. She indeed recoiled and almost knelt down from the pain seeing as he took to attack her knee cap.

_'Keh, clever bastard…'_ she thought to herself. _'He's taking aim at my joints; maybe his swordsmanship isn't as simple as I pegged it to be.'_ "Not bad princeling," Tharja gritted out, "far more better swordplay than I'd seen here in Plegia aside of the king of course. But don't let two sure strikes go to your head; I can sense how much you've got in you right now, and three more hits from me will put you down in the dirt for certain."

"That's _if_ they can hit me," Chrom challenged. And again he rushed in to slash at her, almost missing his mark as she attempted to dodge but scoring another hit on the dark mage on her other leg, making evasion for her a pain to execute. _'Alright then, now that both of her legs are reduced in usefulness she'll have a harder time trying to dodge. So, let's see where I should plan my next move…'_ His battles with Robin had taught him how to analyze his foe and find the best place to hammer at; here, Tharja seemed to utilize her right arm for casting Elthunder, and he remembered Nosferatu's dark energy pooled into her left. The sooner he made it impractical for Tharja to cast Nosferatu the better luck he'd be in for this duel. The woman a yard away from him began to cast Elthunder once more, and he devised a new ploy. As the bolt of lightning descended upon him he took Falchion and made to deflect the blow before it hit him; he was indeed able to catch the lightning bolt and redirect it at Tharja's left arm, causing the dark mage to try and block the attack to not risk damaging her legs further. Chrom's suspicions proved to be spot on: Tharja was a southpaw as she instinctively raised her left arm to the forefront to absorb some of the damage that got her, and she quickly hissed out in pain from the stinging impact of her own attack.

_'Son of a bitch!__'_ Tharja cursed to herself. She took a look at her damaged arm; aside of a burn or two it wasn't in any serious condition, but it would definitely hamper her ability to cast Nosferatu easily. She looked up to glare at Chrom who stood a yard away from her in a defensive stance, and she growled out in a dark tone. "Now it's officially _on_; you mess with a dragon and you get the fangs…" As much as it pained her she moved swiftly to catch Chrom and get him within her Hex range. Instead of trying to fire off a lightning bolt at the prince the dark mage opted to super charge her hand with the Elthunder tome's crackling power, her Hex curse attaching itself to Chrom once more and clenching her empowered hand into a fist. Chrom didn't even try to evade the attack, instead using his sword as a shield to take the blow of the punch; bad idea as he would soon think to himself, as Falchion took the lightning full force while the magic energy itself travelled up to Chrom's sword arm. The shock had caused the man to accidentally drop his sword, and he didn't have enough time to move out of the way of the next blow. The second fist landed squarely on his chest, the noxious feeling of a Nosferatu charged fist creeping into him.

"Ah Gods!" Chrom screamed out, actually feeling some of his vitality being snatched out of him and watched as a dark purple and red light pour out of his body. The light then seeped into Tharja's form, filling her with a faint glow of the same colors.

"Much better," Tharja started, "but not enough to compensate for the hits you landed. And I think that I can move much better now that my legs are in top shape again."

_'Damnit,'_ Chrom said in his mind. _'I knew that Nosferatu was going to be a problem. I need to take out that spell and fast.'_ He didn't get much time to think as Tharja advanced towards him yet again with another Elthunder-infused punch with his name on it, but he did envision another scheme in the time he did have. Instead of trying to evade the blow he simply dropped to the ground in a swift motion causing the punch to miss, then when he was certain Tharja had dropped her guard he kicked out his legs to trip the woman to his level. Taken by surprise at the little trick she didn't recover in time to stop Chrom from rushing to take the fallen Falchion back into his hands. Tharja herself scrambled to her feet and prepared to fire off Elthunder yet again, but the spell wasn't ready by the time Chrom had reached her. A single decisive slash was all it took for the thunder magic tome to be bisected, it magical contents exploding out of it near the two duelists. The prince shielded himself from the blast and regained his composure quickly, but not quick enough to avoid the dark light of Nosferatu from ensnaring him in place. In his haste to reclaim his weapon and destroy the thunder magic tome he failed to notice Tharja charging up the dark magic spell, falling right into another trap of hers.

"You just keep surprising me you know that?" Tharja congratulated while her dark eyes watched his energy leak from him and into her. "I figured that most Ylisseans were simple soldiers with no real strategy. You've nearly outsmarted and outplayed me at every chance you had."

"Well, what can I say?" Chrom said amidst his gasps for air. "I have my faithful tactician Robin to thank for being such a competent and patient teacher. With their training I went from a mere swordsman to a pretty cunning strategist in my own right if I do say so myself."

"Gangrel would've liked to have a word with you on that one," Tharja humorously added. "Oh well, looks as if you have no more tricks up your sleeve though. It'll be very nice to have you as my new…_"helper"_."

"And once again, if you think that this duel is over then think again; I _do_ have another trick up my sleeve, one you wouldn't have seen coming." It wasn't really a trump card as Chrom made it out to be but Tharja didn't have to know that. He wore a smirk of confidence on his face that made it appear as if he had figured his opponent all out.

"Really now?" she inquired, still fairly certain that she would come out on top. "I think that you're bluffing. You can call it quits now and I won't have to humiliate you further if you want."

"I _never_ call it quits," Chrom shot back in defiance while his grin grew wider still. He kept his eyes on hers as he reached his arm behind his back. Tharja couldn't see what he had in store for her, or rather himself in reality; in a swift motion he took the object out from behind him and pressed the top of it up to his lips. He downed the whole concoction quickly and placed the empty bottle back in its place on his back; his eyes kept to Tharja's and witnessed her expression turn from triumph to surprise. "_Ahhh_…that sure hit the spot. I can feel some of my strength returning to me."

"You had that on you this whole time?" she asked in slight annoyance.

"I never go on missions without one," he responded in pride. "A soldier of mine brewed that elixir for me and another enchanted the bottle so as to not break easily when I'm in combat. If you can heal yourself then I should be able to do so as well right?" The dark mage rolled her eyes while readying her remaining tome; she suspected that he might have had something on him to give him an edge in battle but to her it was merely delaying the inevitable.

"Whatever, you had your chance to bow out graceful, but oh well, it's your funeral." Now that Nosferatu was her only weapon every strike would convert some of Chrom's pain into nourishment for her. She waited for Chrom to enter her Hex range once more before casting the spell; but that moment came too soon for her. The mixture he had drank had gave him a speed boost by virtue of healing some of his injuries and thus he managed to swipe at her abdomen before rounding her form and striking at her back. The dark mage yelled out in painful shock and she attempted to catch the now nimble prince before he could make another move on her, but she was too late. Chrom had the speed to snatch her dark magic tome from the air and toss it off to the side somewhere where she couldn't use it, wrapped his arms around her body and used his legs to take her down to the ground. Again Tharja was caught off guard by the unexpected gesture but she wasn't entirely helpless. Using her head she harshly head-butted Chrom in the face to get him off of her and quickly darted to retrieve her weapon. But Chrom was the faster one and tackled the woman down to the ground a second time, preventing her from reaching the nefarious book. He took his arms to pin Tharja's own down at her sides while his legs caught hers in a vice grip. Tharja could only look up at the man as he smiled a smile of victory.

"Heh, _now_ who's been outplayed?" he smugly asked her. But Tharja wasn't one to go down without a fight.

"Oh gee, that sounds like a tough one there," she sarcastically bit out before using her strength to flip the unsuspecting prince onto his back, eliciting a slight yelp from him.

"_Ack_, my vulneraries!" he spilled out, the bottles digging into his back. Tharja's eyes widened from the revelation. If the earlier mixture he drank gave him some of his strength back, then there were no doubts that the others could do the same if not more. Remembering that while she now had Chrom below her, her arms and legs were still held in place by him, and so she tried to break free while he was distracted. She had no such luck in completely escaping his grasp as he quickly reached up as she stood and caught her in a bear hug while tacking her down for the third time. She hit the ground harder than the previous two attempts, which had knocked some of the energy and wind out of her. This time Chrom was intent on squeezing her into submission. "Tap out and I'll stop," he spoke to her, calling back to her earlier words. She didn't have much room to do anything to get him off of her this time, and he was hugging her so hard that she steadily found it harder and harder to breathe. She had her pride as a powerful dark mage with fearsome dark magic at her disposal, but she wasn't too proud to concede defeat in a duel if she was close to coming unconscious.

"Agh, al-alright," she rasped out, "I give, I give…"

"What was that?" he teased, his voice becoming a tone of cruel mirth. "I don't think I heard you clear enough. You're going to have to say it louder, else I'll simply hold you here until you pass out."

"Gods, you win!" she tried to scream out. "You win okay?! I give…I…ghh…" the woman thought that right then and there she would fall unconscious from lack of air, and Chrom apparently was merciful enough to heed her voice this time and released her from his arms, himself actually collapsing atop of her having spent so much of his remaining energy to coerce her into throwing in the towel. She took in a sharp intake of air, seconds before the lack of oxygen would take her and kept taking in deep breaths to stabilize herself. Chrom himself was doing the same, catching his own breath and basking in his victory. He tried to use his arms and lift himself up from Tharja to see her face. She looked exhausted from the bout, staring blankly at him as he smiled in utter triumph. "You…are such a _dick_, you know that?"

"I just did what any other combatant would have done in that position," Chrom remarked. "Well then, I suppose that this win in mine. Hah…I, Prince Chrom of Ylisse, cordially welcome you as the newest Shepherd."

"_Yaayyyy_," the woman sarcastically drawled out, "my heart's _filled_ with _rainbows_ to be under your command, my prince…" _'So much for having my own personal royalty slave,'_ she lamented in her head. _'Oh well, it shouldn't be too bad of an experience.'_ Today wasn't a total loss for her; she still had an opportunity to live another day without the threat of execution over her head for now at least, and it wasn't like Chrom hadn't given her the duel of her life, one that although she had lost provided her with some entertainment in the form of the first real challenge she had in ages. The two of them simply laid there on the ground taking each other in, expressing their personal thoughts of each other. "You know, you're not half bad for a prince. I'd have first brushed you off as an easy victory but boy was I wrong. Looks like you kept your focus on the fight after all."

"Heh, I wasn't expecting to win either; part of me resigned myself to getting used to being your servant or some such occupation, but the other part urged me to keep going on. And you're not bad yourself; you display quite the powerful dark arts at your command, and you really forced me to think more than I had ever done in this campaign." They both had small grins on their faces and their respect for each other had increased substantially. They were looking forward to what would await them both in the future, but then they started to take notice of each other's looks. "I've told you that you're beautiful right?"

"Oh I remember _that_ alright," Tharja chuckled. "Look at you, staring down and admiring your prize as she's pinned down right underneath you. I do so wonder what else you have in store for me."

"You'll just have to wait and see for yourself then," he replied. "Not to sound arrogant, but how do I look to you?"

"_You?_" Tharja asked with a raised eyebrow. "_You_ look like you went through a _slaughterhouse_. Attractive as you are that blood's pretty off-putting to most women, so try to remember that the next time you feel bold enough to ask if a woman finds you good looking."

"So should I take that as a "yes" then?" the prince inquired.

"What do _you_ think?" Tharja said trying to contain her laughter. It was almost startling to see how well they seemed to be getting along with each other already. Chrom took himself from atop of Tharja and extended his arm to the downed woman. "I'm pretty sure I can stand up by myself thank you very much."

"Just being a little hospitable," Chrom insisted. Tharja shook her head laughing to herself and reached for the prince's hand anyways since he offered. After beating her in combat she may as well accept this as a small consolation of sorts. She was now on her feet and stood before her newly appointed commander before remembering a few things.

"Almost forgot about my Nosferatu tome," she stated. She looked around for the missing book and spotted it a few feet away from their spot. She retrieved the book and dusted it off of the sand that coated it before asking Chrom for one of the potions he had. He agreed to offer her two of the remaining three he had on him; Tharja could swear that the medicine tasted like the bottom of an old barrel but she didn't complain too much, it did its job and restored some of her strength to her. She now felt that she was capable enough to take on another opponent or two. Chrom and Tharja were about to speak more until they heard some snorts off in the distance. They both turned around several of the other Shepherds standing right before the courtyard gate's entrance, each of them having a mixture of different emotions.

"Damn man," Vaike said amongst his snickers. "You two _just_ met each other and you're _already_ all over her!" The man started cracking up along with the crimson knight Sully nearby. "You must've wanted her _real_ bad!"

"Vaike, _please_ shut up," Chrom warned, not in the mood for the fighter's japes. Feeling annoyed at the man's presence he questioned his being there. "Why exactly are you here making jokes about me and Tharja"

"Oh no, that's not why I'm‒I mean, why _we're_ here," the fighter said. "Robin sent us to find ya' and make sure that you finish up your little "duel" here and regroup with the rest of the Shepherds as soon as possible."

"The tactician has been feeling especially uneasy since they had stepped within the courtyard's walls," Panne spoke. "They seem to believe that some terrible tragedy may befall us here and wishes for all of the Shepherds to be present in the event that something does not go according to their plan." Chrom had simply sighed to himself while running his hands through his hair; Robin had been unusually worried on this day, maybe because Emmeryn's life was at risk. But then they had awoken that morning from a horrid nightmare and had been spending a lot of the time experiencing a subdued dread. Chrom should have probably asked them about that nightmare, to see if it had anything to do with Emmeryn's execution. Where things here adding up to their nightmare? Where they currently living out exactly what had transpired in that dream? Or was it a dream to begin with; what if it was actually a premonition of today's events? With these thoughts Chrom settled that it would be best to make haste to regroup with the rest of his soldiers.

"Alright then," Chrom started, "we will regroup with Robin immediately and finish off this Campari figure so that we can set the plan into motion. Everyone, Tharja is our newest member and she will be assisting us in bringing this war to an end. I don't believe you have much to fear from her, not to offend you or anything Tharja."

"None taken," the Plegian simply replied.

"For now I think that it is best I fight in a pair with her to further gauge her abilities in combat."

"Really now?" Sully asked Chrom. "You sure that you don't have the googly eyes for her or somethin'?"

"Sully, please," Chrom said. "Let's not go there. Can we all just go and regroup with Robin already?"

"Oh all right," Vaike relented. "But I'm not letting you off the hook for this just yet, just letting you know right now."

* * *

The rest of the group strolled a great deal behind their leader and his new recruit as they were the first ones to march off to fight Campari. Chrom thought about something concerning the dark mage who walked with him; she knew combat curses like Hex and Anathema, but what about non-combative curses? Did she know about these types?

"Hey, Tharja?" Chrom asked in a hushed whisper, trying not to get the attention of some of his Shepherds behind him. She didn't turn to face him but she acknowledged his question with a simple "hmm". "What other curses have you learned besides Hex and Anathema?"

"Many," she replied. "Any curses you're looking for in particular?"

"Well…" Chrom figured that he could ask her for a curse that will help in case something goes wrong, but that wasn't specific enough. 'What could possibly go wrong?' Chrom asked himself, not as a sarcastic question, but a legitimate one to think up completely realistic scenarios. His crony Aversa pulling something out of her arse was something that Chrom did not deem unreasonable; he didn't see Gangrel as capable of putting together any plan outside of invasions. A particularly chilling one was if the Risen had suddenly ambushed their party; those creatures were bloodthirsty monsters with no inhibitions whatsoever, and if there was a way to summon and control them Chrom was sure that Aversa would be the one to be capable of doing such. "Let me ask you another question first. About the Grimleal, how much about them do you know about?"

"All of Plegia's citizens are anointed as Grimleal by birth," Tharja answered. "It's law that's been in effect since the founding of Plegia and the Grimleal. I'm technically a Grimleal myself, but again, it's law that all Plegians are Grimleal whether they actually worship Grima or not, and I happen to be the type to give less of a care about Grima."

"I see…" Chrom never knew that; he figured that only a select few actually bore the title of Grimleal, but for the entire nation itself to be labelled as such by law regardless of the truth of the matter? Now Chrom could see why it was easy for his father to wage war against this nation.

"Some of us are selected to participate in the rituals that the core church partake in, and I've actually seen how the core priests have experimented in finding ways to resurrect the dead as Risen to use them as a potential secret weapon." Tharja couldn't see it, but she could sense how Chrom flinched upon hearing that part. She also remembered how that Taguel, Panne was it, could literally hear everything she said, and figured that everyone behind them must have seen how Chrom jumped, knowing immediately what the reason was.

"You're…you're serious aren't you?" Chrom asked.

"I'm being dead serious," Tharja assured. "As far as I know it's still just an experiment; Aversa herself took a select few of us to witness how it was being done: the late Validar, leader of the Grimleal, devised a prototype box that once opened would attract the Risen to the location of the box. So far they don't listen to orders but they're working out the kinks. Aversa wanted to call it the "Reeking Box" because the smell used to attract the Risen, well, reeks."

"…I think I know what curse I'm looking for." Chrom said listening to the news.

"Do tell." Tharja began to smile a little at that. Curses were her specialty more so than dark magic, and the prospect of getting to cut loose some bit had her just about ready to unleash some Hell upon some unfortunate victims.

"If you know a curse that affects Risen then I'd like to hear some. If not, then I would want Aversa cursed." Now Chrom was convinced that Aversa was going to pull a fast one on them and ruin their day. The aura she gave off was different than Gangrel's; he seemed to be hooked on vengeance and was an unabashed psychopath, yet Aversa seemed to be something far more vile and sinister. She looked to be a total schemer, and Chrom did not want her to screw them over. "We'll carry out our plan as usual, but if Aversa shows herself I want her cursed to the point where she'll be very much a liability."

"Hmmm…I'm not sure if I can curse Aversa," Tharja answered. "Her dark powers eclipse my own, and I think she'd know if someone tried to curse her. But I do know a few Risen curses. I've been studying the Reeking Boxes in my free time and developed a few curses for them, including one that causes the box to backfire on whoever used it."

"That's good enough for me," Chrom said. "If Aversa pulls one out, use that curse." With that settled, Chrom readied himself for the ensuing events to come. If everything went smoothly Emmeryn would be home in no time and this nonsense war would be over. When they got closer to the execution block Chrom's group had caught up with the rest of their allies, and the prince spotted Robin squaring off with a man in bright red armor with gold highlights. Chrom figured this man to be Campari. "Is that the man we need to defeat here? Campari?" Chrom asked Tharja.

"Yep, that's him. Defeat him and the rest of the soldiers should retreat."

"Alright then. All of you are to rejoin your allies in the fight against the rest of the soldiers. Robin, Tharja and I will take care of the enemy general. Now go!" With a quick salute from everyone but Panne the Shepherds took their weapons and ran off to engage with some other troop. Chrom turned his gaze upon Campari and unsheathed his rapier while Tharja readied her Nosferatu tome; with little warning Chrom charged straight at the armored man and slashed down on him, taking him by complete surprise and cutting deep into his armor.

"The devil?!" the large man bellowed out as he stumbled backwards from the blow. His eyes met the sight of Chrom who had his weapon drawn before him. "Why you‒" before he could hurl his spear at the foolhardy prince a dark light shone down on him from above, taking hold of him while he could feel his own life force begin to leave him. He traced the source back to a dark mage woman holding a tome in her hand, the very sight itself sending his blood into a furious overheat. _"You traitorous wench!"_ he screamed at her, familiar with who she was. Robin turned around to see who had managed to land those lucky blows on the general: it was Chrom and the dark mage Tharja side-by-side.

"Glad to see that you finally joined us Chrom!" they called out to him. "And you're Tharja correct? It's always nice to have some extra help around!" They drew forth an Arcthunder tome and cast the c-class spell on the stunned general, the magic easily putting a dent in his defenses.

"I take it that you're not having too much problems with this guy?" Chrom asked.

"Nah, not really," they replied. "All I had to do was use my magic and he became a total pushover."

"That's what you think, Ylissean tactician!" Campari spouted at him. "Magic alone won't save you from me!"

"No, but _this_ will!" Chrom roared. Again his rapier cut deep into the stocky man, drawing forth a stream of blood as he struck gold. Tharja once again cast her dark magic upon the armored general, stealing more of his life and adding it to her own, completely restoring her vitality in the process. Campari himself now realized that he might have been way over his head; he had three people on him at once, two magic users who made him look like a joke and a rapier wielding lord that he was too slow to catch, and he was already quite exhausted from the tactician making short work of him earlier. For once he considered retreating to build back up his fallen unit but fate simply did not favor him this day. He tried to throw his spear in an attempt to catch them all off guard, and right as his arm was outstretched enough to let the weapon fly it was met by the prince's rapier which had little issue separating the limb from the body. He was remarkably tough however and didn't cause too much of a fuss with the event. In a bold move he took his remaining arm and shot it out at the offending man in a shielded punch, but he was not fast enough to connect the fist with its intended target. This was met with another swift arm displacement, yet he refused to howl out his extreme pain even as he fell over onto his back from the shock. At that moment his men noticed the predicament the general was in and began to panic at the sight.

"General Campari has been disarmed!" one wyvern rider announced, completely oblivious to the unintentional pun.

"He's the toughest out of all of us…" another soldier muttered. "If _he_ didn't stand a chance then what chance do _we_ have?" In short notice amongst the murmurs and whispers each enemy soldier present slowly but surely started running with their tails between their legs; they knew that Campari was doomed, they didn't have the strength to best the soldiers that had fought them so they did the wise thing as some would say and got up out of there while they could, leaving their defenseless general to the mercy of the Shepherds.

"It's over General Campari," Chrom spoke out to him. Remembering Tharja's words he knew that Campari would not go down quietly if he had anything to say about it. "You have no means of attacking us and you are surely to die here, but the least I can do to spare you the agony of your demise is to end you right now. Don't take this personal." As Chrom had said he took his rapier and swung it with speed and force to behead the downed general. His face was etched in a mask of pain as if he was trying to scream but no sound came from it, and soon its expression mellowed out into the telltale lifeless look that all the deceased wore. Campari had finally passed.

* * *

"And that's the end of that." Chrom took a quick glance around the area and found no remaining Plegian soldiers anywhere, although he _did_ see the Mad King Gangrel and his subordinate Aversa striding towards them, Gangrel himself looking ready to blow while Aversa remained indifferent while she curiously held one of her arms behind her back. "Tharja," he called out to the dark mage who responded with a bored "Yeah?", "Robin's starting to get really nervous again." he said, watching how their face shifted into uncertainty. "Get that curse ready. I suspect that Aversa has a trick up her sleeve." The dark mage nodded while Chrom pulled out a strange baton like device from his pantaloons pocket. Robin did the same by pulling out the same device from their coat pocket, and before the villainous duo reached the Shepherds Chrom and Robin held their items skyward, the devices firing off a flare into the sky that exploded into an array of multiple colors.

"The skies are clear!" Chrom shouted at the top of his lungs. Gangrel and Aversa both stopped short of them and wondered what Chrom was up to. They soon got their answer when they turned their view to the air and beheld an entire squadron of pegasus knights heading towards where Emmeryn was standing.

"For Ylisse!" Phila cheered with her lance up high, with the rest of her unit following suit as they rode through the air en route to the Ylissean Exalt. Gangrel looked upon them with intense fury looking as if he would froth at the mouth.

"Pegasus Knights?" he growled. "The Hell did they come‒damnit, damnit, damnit, damnit, _**damnit!**_ I thought I personally locked up those flying rats for good!" He turned his manic eyes towards the object of his undying hatred, the Ylissean's tactician. "_**YOU!**_ I hope you're proud of yourself; you've officially pissed off your worst nightmare! _C'mere_, I'll give you someone to contend with, and I swear that I will rip you a new one!" Gangrel pulled out his own sword from its sheath, a jagged sword crackling with lightning magic as furious as its owner was, and brandished it in a reverse grip unlike everyone else there bar Gaius. The Shepherds believed that they could easily take him on with all of them combined, but Aversa would dare to crush that notion with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

"Now, now, Gangrel," she crooned in that sultry voice of hers. "Throwing tantrums at the enemy won't accomplish anything, and besides, they'd all have you killed if you tried to fight them right this instant."

"Wha‒you‒!"

"I'm not suggesting that we retreat my highness," she assured him. "So what the little brats managed to one-up us? It's only a very temporary annoyance."

"Is that so?" Gangrel said, clearly not convinced. "What, do you have some sort of trick up those sleeves of yours? Something that will turn the tide in our favor?"

"What else?" the dark flier snarked. The Shepherds and Gangrel watched the vamp slowly pull out an object from behind her back. When it came into full view it turned out to be a large golden-colored box with a skull at the front. Tharja immediately recognized the box: it was a Reeking Box, and a completed one at that. Acting fast but not giving herself away she began to work the curse in her mind as she had the incantations memorized.

'_Good thing this is an oral curse,'_ Tharja noted in her head. Chrom turned around to see what she was doing, her eyes had been closed and her mouth was quietly making out the words, too quiet for anyone else but Panne to hear, and she stayed hidden from Aversa's view. With the final words spoken she clapped her hands in a prayer position before her face and focused her gaze on the Reeking Box, channeling the curse into the box itself so as to not have the dark flier detect it. Aversa's hand placed itself atop the box and slowly cracked it open, a black and purple smog pouring out of it in a thick plume and emitting a quaint yet unpleasant smell.

"Gods, what stinks?" Gaius said aloud. "Vaike, is that you?"

"Hey!" the fighter cried out in defense. "I bathed before I got here!"

"The stench is coming from the box," Panne confirmed.

"You kiddies haven't seen anything like this before have you?" Aversa taunted. "It's a little…gift, from me to you. Do try to make the most of it while you can, because it will be the last gift you'll ever get. And don't worry, I've brought enough of it for _everyone_…" The statement sent slimy chills up Robin's spine like never before; their feeling of untold horror came back with a vengeance, and they frantically scanned around to find the source of their fear. Chrom wanted to confront Aversa about this so-called "gift" but decided against it; Tharja had probably cast a curse on it by now and he didn't want to reveal his plan lest Aversa try to counter it. Soon a rift appeared in the sky in the shape of the same portal that Chrom had encountered the first time he met the Risen; sure enough, he could see Risen pour out of the sky, but these weren't just any Risen: they were all archers.

'_I _knew_ that witch had a trap to spring on us,'_ Chrom bitterly thought. _'Well too bad for her, I have my _own_ trap card ready to play…'_ The Risen touched down near flawlessly on the desert ground in a circle around Aversa and Gangrel, killer bows already on standby.

"I do so hope that you won't miss those pegasus knights _too_ much," Aversa cooed in that faux-honey tone. "Minions, please be so kind as to show our feathered friends their new retirement home…" At that the Shepherds had finally realized what Aversa had done; she spawned archer Risen with the intention of slaughtering Phila and the rest of her squadron. They moved to stop them but before they could Gangrel, who was now in a much better mood at the turn of events, decided to throw out a warning.

"Ah, ah, ah. Take one more step and I'll have them change targets. You wouldn't want your precious Ylissean highness to become the world's largest pin cushion now would you?" At that they all stopped in their tracks; they knew that Gangrel meant every word and didn't want to test him, but they didn't want Phila and her knights to be felled like this. Even Robin was starting to panic, their plan having gone down the drain despite all the work they put into it, fearing for the lives of their allies.

"No, this can't be happening…" they whispered. "Please tell me this nightmare isn't really happening right now…" Chrom however stood unaffected by the threats directed, and simply waited for the inevitable backfire that was sure to upset the two villains before them. Gangrel noticed his stoic expression and decided to taunt him.

"So princeling, how does it feel knowing that you're simply one decision away from this massacre? Knowing that all you have to do to get me to call off the attack is to hand over the Fire Emblem? Does it make you feel all grimy inside? Either you forfeit your nation's treasure to me right now, or you forfeit the lives of your loyal wenches. And if the pegasus knights fall, your precious sister will be next unless the Fire Emblem is handed over. So, which one is it going to be? You don't have all day you know, so make your choice quickly; the rats of the sky are almost here~." Everyone looked to him as he appeared as if he was going to decide what decision to make, but he stared down Gangrel instead without speaking a single word. "Can't decide huh? Oh well, that's _their_ funeral. Archers, _let 'em fly!_" the tyrant commanded. He watched the Risen around him in anticipation of what he imagined would be a glorious slaughter of both rider and mount. He waited for a few more seconds, seeing if they were taking aim; instead he found that they were still very much on standby. "Any second now," he goaded, but no response came. "Hey, didn't you hear me?! I ordered you to fire already!" They still refused to budge even as he yelled at them. He turned to Aversa for an explanation who was just as confused as he was.

"Aversa!"

"I'm right here, you don't have to shout," she said, losing her sultry aura.

"Didn't you summon these things?! Why aren't they listening?!"

"Maybe I have to give them the orders?" she shrugged. "Alright, chop-chop! You have pegasus knights to kill! So make it snappy!" Nothing still. _'Why aren't these damn things obeying our orders?!'_ the dark flier furiously shrieked in her mind. _'We perfected this box to summon completely obedient Risen! What's going on here?!'_ Everyone watched as the Risen stood dumbly in place as if they were statues, and when they looked up to the sky Phila already had Emmeryn seated on her steed and was busy leading her squad out of there.

"No, no, _**NO!**_" Gangrel howled once the sky knights had left the vicinity with the Exalt in tow. "What just happened there?!"

"How did this plan fail?" Aversa hissed. "I had charmed these corpses into obeying my every command, yet they sat here like worthless junk." The two Plegians could hear the uproar of the citizens who had gathered at this place to witness the death of their hated enemy and for her to get away without so much of a single scratch had sent quite the number of them into a murderous anti-Ylissean frenzy. The Shepherds also heard the vast cries of fury and anger all around them, with Panne informing them all of their current situation.

"The vast majority of the Plegian citizens here are not pleased," she told them in a low tone. "I can hear many of them taking up arms and mobilizing here as we speak. We're outnumbered." The Taguel seemed a bit uneasy at that, and that made the Shepherds worry a great deal, Robin in particular didn't take the news too well.

"I…guess I failed to take this into account…" they said. "Basilio, where are you?"

"_Not. So. Fast."_ Gangrel spat out through his teeth, his rage transcending itself into a new breed vile of hatred. "You _fucked_ with the _wrong_ king here. We set this all up to kill _someone_ today, and guess what? Since you maggots managed to smuggle your _oh-so-high-and-mighty_ _**bitch**_ _**queen**_ to safety with your little whore knights, I suppose we'll have to settle with the next best thing: _you_. I promise you, you will be _begging_ _me_ to kill you once I'm through with you all. Your corpses will make _lovely_ trophies to parade around Ylisse's capital for all to see, and I will ensure that _every_ _waking_ _moment_ _of_ _my_ _life_ hereafter will be dedicated to breaking that harlot Emmeryn in every way conceivable until she drops _dead_ from despair…" The levin sword that the Mad King brandished in his hand sparked alive with a new terrible resolve as he marched forth with murderous intent oozing from every fiber of his being. While people were used to the tyrant throwing explosive bouts of anger, this was an all-new plane of wrath so they instinctively stepped back ready for when he lunged. Chrom stood firm and decided to wrap things up here.

"Archers!" he called out, and the entire entourage of Risen turned their attention to him. "Take aim at Gangrel and Aversa, and let your arrows fly at will!" They did as commanded and turned their bows upon their targets. Aversa herself had a sick fear creep up into her, being a dark flier and all and wondering how it was possible for the Ylissean prince to completely turn the tables on them; Gangrel however wasn't fazed in the slightest and simply kept stalking onwards towards the Shepherds. Not a moment too soon did the arrows fire off from their bows. Aversa tried to somehow evade or block the arrows aimed at her and wished that she had her mount with her at the time. None of her vital organs had been punctured but it still massively hurt having arrows lodge themselves into her frame. And Gangrel? He kept walking even as he took an arrow in the knee and in several other places, even cutting down some of the Risen who were in his way with little problems. "_Oh_ _boy_…" Chrom said as he tried to back away from the maddened madman. He drew his own sword rather too late and took an electrified slash to his right arm, the sheer pain forcing his hand to drop the sacred sword to the ground. He would have earned a stab right through his forehead had Robin not cast an Arcthunder spell in the nick of time.

"_**YOU…**_" Gangrel said to the tactician. "You will especially pay dearly for this…" He raised his sword into the air calling forth a vicious lightning bolt to strike the youth where they stood, striking them exactly where he wanted to: dead center in their chest. The strategist convulsed violently from the impact and fell to the ground in a crumpled slump.

"Robin!" Chrom shouted. He tried to hurry over to his fallen partner and assist them up but Gangrel stood in his way.

"_And you're next…"_ he hissed, charging his magical sword with ludicrous amounts of lightning magic. Before he could strike home a large figure tackled him to the ground.

"What're you sprogs doing standing around here for?!" the voice boomed. That voice belonged to the large and in charge West Kahn of Regna Ferox.

"Kahn Basilio!" Chrom exclaimed. "Oh thank the Gods you‒"

"No time for chitchat!" the imposing man barked, struggling to keep Gangrel pinned down. "I had to cut you all an escape route through here, now go already!"

"But what about‒"

"MOVE!" Basilio ordered, causing Chrom to flinch. The prince looked to Robin and found them securely held up on his Lieutenant Frederick's horse and kept in place by his younger sister Lissa; Frederick was more than fit enough to jog through an entire valley without so much as sweating so Chrom didn't worry so much about him. Not wanting to anger the Kahn Chrom picked up his dropped weapon and ordered his Shepherds to retreat from the courtyard where they found East Kahn Flavia waiting for them.

* * *

"The oaf secured us this route to make a retreat straight to Ferox," the female hero explained as she pointed off into the direction they were to be headed. "Let's get a move on already before more people start crowding around us!"

"What about Kahn Basilio?" Chrom asked.

"That oaf? Pfft, it'll take far more than _three_ Gangrels fighting him at once to bring him down. He's coming with us if that's what you're worried about; now come on!" Chrom didn't want to waste more time with questions and simply ran through the desert plains along with his soldiers following Flavia. He looked around to see if Tharja had decided to come with them or stay behind; much to his relief he found her off to the back of the pack keeping up; he slowed down his pace so that he could speak to her as the Shepherds made their getaway.

"There you are!" he called out to her. "I can't thank you enough for this plan going so smoothly Tharja!"

"Yeah, yeah…" she replied in her usual bored voice. "Don't mention it. I do have a rep to uphold here."

"Even so, I owe you so much for helping us get Emmeryn out of there safely. We'll definitely have to talk about this more once we find make it to Regna Ferox."

"Don't start giving me ideas now Chrom," Tharja teased. "You might end up doing some weird things once I'm done with you."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" The lord kept running alongside his new soldier and looked up to the sky for a brief moment, unable to fight off the ever grateful smile on his face. _'Divine Dragon Naga…if you can hear me all the way down here, thank you for delivering someone like Tharja to me. And thank you for willing my elder sister to live another day…I swear that I have to pay this woman back somehow, no good deed should go unrewarded…'_


	3. Twilight

The sky was splashed with a threatening fire hue when the Shepherds had arrived in a mire, but it wasn't as if they could see the colors given that the sky was covered with storm clouds. To dampen their moods further it rained harshly as if some rain deity was trying to impede their escape from Plegia. It was not that any of it would slow them down; most of them were either in high spirits from their successful rescue mission or dire urgency to get as far away from the livid Mad King as possible. Further mention was how most of the nation was sent spiraling into a murderous frenzy and now hounded the military and any Ylissean they could come across. Despite the aforementioned success of getting the Exalt to safety, several Shepherds couldn't help but feel that their victory was pyrrhic at best.

"I didn't think that things would take this kind of turn…" Chrom said aloud. "I thought that it was just Gangrel and his men that desired such bloodlust."

"They're not the only ones," Tharja told him. "Plegia's pretty much been in a sour mood ever since the last war and wanted some compensation but didn't get any. Naturally, Plegia wanted the next best thing: revenge. I myself have some vivid memories of what it was all like. Everyone was screaming either in fear, pain, rage, or a combination of all three. Things were getting burned down, buildings and people alike. And wherever there was any shelter they were usually so crowded that they just weren't viable at that point."

"I see…" Chrom said. "And what about you? How did you survive the war?"

"I hid with the rest of my family," the dark mage answered. "Luckily we didn't lose anyone, but we were almost caught several times, and _that_ would not have ended well for us."

"Was there anyone in your family trained in combat?" Chrom asked Tharja.

"Everyone," Tharja answered. "No one wanted to test the invading soldiers though. That and I remember some of my relatives talking about soldiers possessing light magic."

"Light magic?"

"Yes, light magic. It's the foil to dark magic, and anyone wielding dark magic is susceptible to light magic. That's why my family choose flight over fight; there was no way in Hell that any of them were going to battle any Ylissean. So, hid in the dark catacombs we did for two months, waiting until it was safe enough to leave."

"Well…I'm glad that you all took shelter…" Everyone else aside of Chrom simply expressed their gratitude in silence. Something further down the foggy path caught the tactician's attention and they drew their weapons.

"Plegian soldiers dead ahead!" Robin told the party. "Get ready for a fight!" In seconds the entire Shepherds entourage armed themselves for the confrontation, everyone except Tharja.

"Why not try to take cover instead?" the dark mage suggested. "It doesn't look like they've noticed us yet. Besides, we get into a fight and that'll delay our escape, _and_ it could alert any other soldiers nearby." Taking this into consideration Robin quickly scanned their surroundings and found a deep trench nearby, refusing to disarm themselves but heeding Tharja's advice. Turning to the rest of their forces they made the signal to hide as quiet as they could. No one questioned their strategist's orders and bolted over to the trench, ducking down as low as they could with some having to dismount from their steeds (who were smart enough to take cover). As they waited they could hear a few of the Plegians' words as they walked on.

"Those Ylisseans are a lot smarter than what we thought," one of the soldiers said. "They managed to outplay _Aversa_; one does not simply outplay Aversa."

"Stop saying that," another soldier said. "That fad died years ago.

"And besides, look at all the good that it's doing them now," some soldier stated. "The entire state is riled up on an all-out attack, and Gangrel's so pissed that he could kill you if looks could kill. _That's_ how screwed they are. So much for saving their witch queen eh?" This worried the Shepherds seeing how far they were from Ylisse when their people needed them. "Those Ylisseans'll finally get what's coming to them."

"Still, we shouldn't underestimate _those_ guys. You know, the Shepherds? They're bad news; everything that Gangrel threw at them didn't do crap, including General Campari. _And_ they've got an uber-tier strategist on their side. We have Aversa and they completely threw her secret plan out of the window."

"_Those_ guys? You mean _they're_ out here, _right_ _now_? I thought that it was just a random group of Ylisseans."

"Nah man, they're the ones who rescued their witch queen. And word on the street is that one of our dark mages turned coats for them. I think that—hey, do you smell something?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. It smells like…perfume?" All of the Shepherds immediately turned their eyes towards Maribelle who was the obvious culprit. Luckily for them the other Plegians didn't catch on.

"You probably got your girl's perfume up your nose. That or the wind's carrying it from somewhere."

"Anyways, we should probably hurry on over to the courtyard. Gangrel's issued a mandatory statewide meeting and anyone who doesn't report is sure to pay Hell for it." They continued walking on unaware of the cautious eyes glued to them. Once the Shepherds were certain that the enemy was completely out of sight they took a breath of fresh air and crawled themselves out of the trench.

"I think that they're gone…" Chrom stated. "Alright then everyone, let's keep moving forward. And Maribelle, bathe yourself when you get the chance and refrain from using perfume until this is over."

"Now you see what my family and I had to do," Tharja said once they were all set to leave.

"I see that," Chrom said, not missing the irony the situation had. "Funny how _we're_ the ones hiding now. Let's just hope that we don't run into anything else; the sooner we get out of here the better."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Basilio's deep voice said out of nowhere.

"Kahn Basilio!" Chrom exclaimed in surprise. The last that the Shepherds remembered of the man was him pinning the mad king down long enough for them to escape.

"I know, I know; you can't get enough of me," the Kahn said with a smirk. "The Mad King sure was pissed; you should've seen him! I'm surprised that he wasn't frothing at the mouth and screaming out curses at me. A shame I had to ditch him to help you sprogs find an escape route since the way that we came in through is a no-go."

"So that means Gangrel's still alive," Chrom stated. "Oh well, I suppose that we'd have to take him out anyways. Shepherds, ride forth!" With that the Shepherds ran full speed through the mire behind Basilio and Flavia. Concerning the deranged tyrant Chrom wanted to know the best way to deal with him and guessed that Tharja knew a thing or two. "So Tharja," Chrom called out with the dark mage glancing at him in response. "Any tips on how to deal with Gangrel when we get the chance? Such as strengths and weaknesses that we should be aware of?"

"He's a proficient swordsman," Tharja began, "and he wields a levin sword to play off of his high magical prowess. He's very accurate with it and possesses an acrobatic build, making him very fast and light. He always was a bit frail though."

"So we need to hit him hard with physical attackers," Chrom said.

"That's a start," Tharja stated, "but it's not that simple. Like I said it'll be hard to hit him to begin with. I speak from experience when I sparred with him once, and he has his personal posse of soldiers. Most of them are physically oriented but he keeps around some magical soldiers as well. Gangrel also prefers fighting outdoors where he has more range to attack and move around, and he'll attack you from the furthest distance possible whenever he gets the chance. Lastly, if you try to take him head on you'll bait every soldier in his area."

"Yikes," Chrom said. "Sounds like we'd be in a real hassle."

"You kiddin' me‽" Basilio shouted back. "_Hah!_ That's nothing a Feroxi warrior like me can't handle."

"I hardly doubt that Kahn Basilio," Chrom said, "but Gangrel's no ordinary man. Especially in the condition he's in now…"

"Plegian soldiers are up ahead," Panne suddenly announced. "Prepare yourselves." Everyone still had their weapons on hand and switched from flight to flight on a dime. Through the fog they could see several soldiers walking in their direction with a large man leading them; in the clear the man was shown to be a berserker with a tomahawk in his hand. His face carried a calm yet troubled expression and his eyes carefully regarded the soldiers before him. The soldiers who stood behind him were all armed as well but they also held the face of hesitation.

"Ylisseans," the man spoke, "you tread through enemy territory. I have my orders to either capture or kill you. I would prefer that you surrender to avoid casualties."

"The only casualties here will be of you and your men if you stand in our way pal," Basilio shot back. The Plegian solders felt their blood rising at the threat even as their leader retained his calm demeanor.

"You dare threaten General Mustafa‽" one of the soldiers barked at Basilio. "You had best cherish those words for they will be your last!" He was ready to charge at the Kahn but an arm motioned for him to remain in place. He looked at the general who had silently asked not to do so. "General…"

"We have yet to finish speaking," Mustafa reprimanded him, "and his words were not a true threat."

"But he—"

"I understand your anger but it is best to contain it," Mustafa said. Without any further protesting the soldier stood down and Mustafa looked back at the Shepherds and saw Chrom stepping forward to meet him with Tharja beside him.

"General Mustafa," Chrom began saying, "it does not appear that you want conflict to arise between us, but know this: we will not surrender this war to that madman. We have already come too far to give up now, and if we are to fail the world will be subjected to his tyranny. Tell me something; why do you serve him?"

"He was once a man who wished for the best of Plegia," Mustafa explained, "but in his bid to protect Plegia from further threats he lost his way, and he now only seeks power and vengeance. I continue to serve him only on the promise that my family is spared from his wrath, and he has demonstrated that he is capable of carrying out his threats. Call me a craven if you wish but this very reason is why I continue to serve his military."

"You are no craven," Chrom told him. "You're only doing what's best for your family and I can sympathize with that. However, if that is true than you have no further fear for them; we will bring Gangrel down ourselves and put an end to his reign."

"We almost had him too you know," Tharja added. The Plegian soldiers aside of Mustafa only heard empty words, but their general gave them thought. He turned to the rest of his men for their reactions before he returned his gaze toward the prince and the turncoat next to him.

"Tharja," he spoke, "this is the path you have chosen?"

"Pretty much," she said. "I work for the Ylisseans now, so I may as well do a good job until I'm retired or whatnot. It beats working for Gangrel so far."

The berserker nodded his head in agreement, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave his liege's service just yet. "If you are truly capable of bringing the Mad King down, then I will not oppose you. However, the rest of the army may not share the same sentiments, so beware your time here. Now, if you must excuse us, we must be leaving now."

"But, didn't you—"

"I would like for me and the rest of my troop to arrive at the courtyard as to not draw suspicion of more treason. Many are aware that a traitor is about, and they are taking measures to sniff them out. They will eventually come to the conclusion that you are the traitor Tharja. Are you prepared to face your former allies in combat?"

"I made it this far didn't I?" Tharja said with a smirk. "This group isn't _too_ bad to hang around with after all."

"In that case we had never met each other here, and I pray that we do not meet again as enemies." Mustafa looked at his men and found no objections on their part, and without speaking another word he walked past the Shepherds group with his troop in tow, all of whom but him conveyed whatever message they had for the heroes through their eyes. Once the last one passed the Shepherds by and disappeared into the fog, Chrom turned to his own soldiers and issued them to continue moving on. Panne kept an alert for Mustafa and his men should they prove dishonest while everyone else kept their attention ahead. Robin for some reason opted to trail behind Chrom and Tharja instead of in front of them, keeping their eyes glued to the woman walking beside their lord. They had been suspicious of her ever since they met, but they kept their distrust to themselves. Robin questioned why someone would be that willing to betray their entire country so easily even if Gangrel was a tyrant. The tactician suspected a nasty plot going on, especially when they caught Tharja glancing around her including spotting her left arm hidden behind her back, and Chrom happened to be to her left side.

"Excuse me, Tharja?" the tactician asked the dark mage. She didn't turn around to meet them but she acknowledged their voice with a grunt. "Is there something wrong with your arm?" This drew attention from Chrom, the Kahns, and the healers in the group.

"It's perfectly fine," Tharja replied with a slight delay that did not go unnoticed by Robin.

"Then is there any particular reason that you have it behind your back?" Robin questioned, barely hiding the suspicious edge in their voice.

"Yes, but I don't feel that it's important," Tharja told them. "You don't have anything to worry about."

"Actually, I _do_ have something to worry about."

"You don't trust me?" Tharja asked. "I guess that I can understand why."

"You don't trust Tharja Robin?" Chrom asked sounding surprised. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Oh come on," Basilio muttered. "We don't have time for this. We need to be focused on getting outta here."

"The oaf's right," Flavia said. "Whatever it is you want to sort out it can wait until we're in the clear. The last thing we need right now are distractions."

"What are you really after?" Robin asked Tharja, ignoring the Kahns and bringing the entire group to a stop. "You can't just hold your arm behind your back and tell me that it's for some unimportant reason."

"I can," Tharja said. "In the grand scheme of things, it's not important enough for you to be concerned." Tharja hoped that it would quiet the tactician but they pressed on.

"I am the tactician here," Robin said to her. "_Everything_ that goes on in a war is of my concern, especially enemy soldiers betraying their country and joining us so easily without giving me an explanation for why."

"Shouldn't you just be grateful that I joined your side? I could have just said no and stayed on Gangrel's side if I wanted to." Robin felt a vein of theirs bulge in anger; they were _supposed_ to thank her when she gave no reason for turning her coat for them?

"Why should I blindly thank someone who has yet to prove to me that they aren't using us and won't betray us at the drop of a hat when it's convenient for them?"

"Convenient? Pah, I'd rather not fight for Gangrel's cause a second longer," Tharja said keeping her back to them. "I'll admit that I'm a little twisted but I'm not _that_ twisted. I've been waiting for someone like your leader here to give me an opportunity to get out of serving Gangrel and I'm very well going to take it."

"So you're doing this completely out of self-preservation? That gives me even _less_ reason to trust you." Robin said, earning many a "what the Hell" look from the others.

"_Really_?" Basilio said. "Are we _really_ doing this right now?"

"What are you hiding behind your back?" Robin asked completely dropping the neutral tone they had, placing their suspicions at the forefront. They walked up to the dark mage with a sword in one hand while they tried to grab Tharja's arm with the other. Before they laid their hand on her she quickly spun around to greet them with a hostile glare and removed her arm from her back, revealing a golden dagger clasped tightly in her hand. The sight surprised everyone and they wondered what their new supposed ally had a dagger behind her back for.

"The Hell's _that_?" Robin asked with malice.

"It's my curse dagger," Tharja said equally agitated. "I use it for some of my curses, and I also use it as a weapon just in case someone has the balls the come up from behind and shank me. I am _not_ in the mood of having a repeat performance."

"And why exactly would any of us shank you for?" Robin asked, not believing the dark mage for a second. "We haven't done anything to you yet. And if that's your reason then why are you sticking so close to Chrom? He's our _leader_."

"I'm Plegian, you're Ylissean," Tharja said. "I switched sides from Gangrel's army to yours, and I suspected that some of you were hostile toward me. Chrom seems the least likely to stab me in the back out of the rest of you considering that he went out of his way to recruit me so I stuck closer to him."

"We may be an Ylissean army but we're above killing Plegians or anyone else for no justified reason." Robin told her. "Only if they gave us reason to want them dead would we ever attempt something like that."

"Like the Grimleal's existence?" Tharja asked. "That alone is enough of a reason to kill anyone as far as I'm concerned. Our two countries have always been at odds with each other because of the religions we both follow, and have you really forgotten that the last war we fought was purely for religious reasons?"

"We're nothing like those Ylisseans who invaded Plegia fifteen years ago," Robin said with their anger starting to die down somewhat.

"I was already against joining this group in the first place," Tharja said, "and I still have some reservations about it, though not as much as I did earlier. I didn't want to be lead around somewhere by random Ylisseans who said that I could trust them and almost end up dead like last time."

"What?" Robin asked. "You honestly thought that—"

"The only Ylisseans I've ever interacted with wanted to kill me for being a 'demon worshipper' no matter how sincere some of them made themselves out to be. The last ones told me that I could trust them to help me out. And guess where they stabbed me?"

"Glad to see that we're all on the same page here," Chrom said in exasperation. "Tharja, I must ask you this: if you suspected that we would try to kill you, then why did you accept my offer to recruit you? And did you truly plan on staying in my service?" The dark mage didn't immediately answer him when she looked at him, taking a deep breath first before she confessed her reasons.

"I figured that I'd humor you for a while," Tharja admitted. "I was mostly just waiting to see who would try to kill me first, and I honestly thought that your knight there would get the jump on me. I would have stayed until that happened then leave once I knew that it was too dangerous for me to be around you. If you guys aren't going to try to kill me then I guess I'll stay."

"You have nothing to fear from us Tharja, I swear it," Chrom assured her. "You may not believe that now but I hope that you come to see it to be true soon."

"Just don't try anything funny in the meantime," Robin added, earning a scowl from Chrom.

"That's enough Robin," Chrom said warning the tactician. "I do not believe that Tharja will betray us, so cool it already."

"But—" they tried to argue with their liege but he was having none of it.

"Robin, please relax. She's not the Hierarch. Don't let one rotten apple spoil the whole barrel okay?" At that Robin had no more words to say and relented.

"Yes Chrom…"

"Good."

"Can we _please_ get going now?" Flavia said sounding more than a little irritated. "Seriously, that could have waited until—"

"Did any of you hear that?" a voice from beyond the fog asked. "Nobody's supposed to be out here."

"Crap!" Basilio growled. "Enemy soldiers right in front of us!" Sure enough a Plegian soldier emerged from the fog with his weapon in hand. As soon as noticed the group he shouted out a war cry with all his might. Within seconds a gang of Plegian soldiers was heard either running, galloping, or flapping their way over to the Shepherds. Wasting no more time Robin signaled the group to get in defensive stances with the armored and shield holders in the front, hoping that the maneuver would break through the enemy. Neither side could see through the fog but the Shepherds thought better than their enemies did; the Plegians never saw their demise literally coming towards them as the Shepherds advanced forward. Armor, bones, and flesh were being shredded apart with extreme prejudice as bodies crashed against their foes' armor and weaponry. "Press on with the maneuver!" Chrom ordered. "We have to make it through here!"

"We won't know where we're going with this blasted fog in the way!" Frederick said.

"I know that!" Chrom shouted back. "Ricken, can you conjure some fierce winds for us? We need you to dispel this fog to see!"

"You got it Chrom!" the mage replied, using his Elwind tome to whip up green razor winds to cut through the foggy air, also ripping through enemy Plegian soldiers in the process. While some of the many mooks were trashed the fog persisted in the face of the wind magic.

"Damnit!" Chrom cursed. "Now what?"

"I have a curse for this you know," Tharja spoke up. "It basically converts fog into full-blown cataracts for the victim. The more fog there is, the more severe the cataracts are, sometimes being permanent."

"That's…actually pretty scary to think about, but I can't think about it for too much longer. Tharja, use that curse to clear this fog from our path please." As the Shepherds kept running forward Tharja began another one of her incantations, with the curse involving her circling her arm above her head. The fog that once obscured the Shepherds' vision was vacuumed into Tharja's hand almost as if she was using a cotton candy machine. With the fog gone everyone could clearly see their enemies, though it wouldn't last longer for the Plegian soldiers. With the incantations finished Tharja pointed her fingers out in front of her and fired of the fog in the shape of bullets into the enemy's eyes. All of the Plegians had been clutching their faces in pain as if the curse actually injured them. With them all occupied the Shepherds had clearance to escape unimpeded.

"You never cease to surprise me Tharja," Chrom said to the dark mage. "I am _really_ glad that you're on our side."

"You should be," Tharja said smirking.

"Don't let 'em escape!" a Plegian soldier cried out in vain. The Shepherds were already well on their way to leaving Plegia while the group of blind soldiers writhed on the ground next to their fallen.

"We'll be outta this hellhole in just a few!" Basilio announced. Of course Robin was wise to not hold the group up again, but they still felt that a proper talk with Tharja in private was in order once they arrived in Regna Ferox.

* * *

"Just our luck…" Basilio said. "Plegians, _and_ they're literally blocking our escape route." Just as the Shepherds had found their point of exit they almost came face-to-face with yet another obstacle; unlike the ones before it there were many dark mages, something that Chrom honestly hoped to avoid once he recruited Tharja. The group hid nearby to avoid detection but they were all too itching to leave.

"Is this the only way out of here?" Chrom whispered to the West Kahn.

"Unfortunately yes," Basilio answered, "and by 'the only way out of here' I meant 'the only place that _wasn't_ swarming with enemy soldiers'."

"So we're basically trapped here?" Tharja said.

"Yeah," Basilio said, "we're basically trapped here."

"Isn't that wonderful?" Chrom snarked. "Looks like we'll have to fight our way through this one."

"That seems to be the case," Tharja said.

"Where is she…?" Basilio wondered aloud.

"Looking for someone?" Chrom asked.

"Olivia," Basilio replied. "She's the one who's supposed to be getting us out of here. I don't see her anywhere…"

"Is that her right there?" Tharja asked pointing at someone. Basilio followed the finger's direction and found a sight he didn't want to see: Olivia was bound and gagged by the Plegians.

"Look at who we found snooping around," a Plegian barbarian said tugging the dancer behind him.

"Isn't that Olivia Montoya?" one of the other Plegians asked. "_Dude_, that's the West Kahn's adopted daughter‼"

"I know that," the barbarian replied. "Imagine the price we could fetch from her. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"I don't know about this man. I'm sure that we'll fetch a fortune from her, but what if the West Kahn finds out?"

"That old fool? Please, he lost the throne to that strumpet Flavia of all people. If anything, he'll be begging to have his precious little girl back."

"They must really want to die…" Flavia growled.

"Easy Kahn Flavia," Robin said. "Don't do anything reckless. We just need to catch them when their guard is lowered." Robin's words fell on deaf ears as both Feroxi were ticking time bombs waiting to explode.

"We don't have the time to sit around and wait Robin," Basilio said. "We have to strike _now_."

"Even if we don't sell her she's still quite the item," another Plegian barbarian said. "I wonder if she's a virgin…" Hearing the words made the terrified dancer squirm and scream under her gag, which only made the barbarian smile wider. "I'll take that as a yes." The next action he took would be the worst thing he had ever done in life; deciding to sample his prey the Plegian yanked the dancer closer to him for a taste test, slowly dragging his slimy tongue against Olivia's bare neck.

"Okay, that's _**IT‼**_" Basilio shouted, blowing the Shepherds' cover.

"Kahn Basilio, wait!" Robin tried calling out after the running man but it was too late. By then the entire group decided that sitting and waiting was no fun so they all jumped out into the fray. With no other choice Robin jumped out behind them with their weapons ready.

"Ylisseans‽" A Plegian soldier shouted. "Ready your weapons men; we'll put these so-called 'do-gooders' in the ground!" From the underground tunnels behind the Plegians rose more Plegian soldiers, and all of them were armed to their teeth. "Kill the men and capture their women! Take the dancer away!" It was too late for the last order as Basilio already drove his axe through the head of the man who had Olivia, whisking her away from the enemy as fast as he could. With Olivia back in safety's arms the Shepherds fully engaged the Plegians.

"Break through their ranks!" Chrom ordered. He pulled out Falchion and took a swipe at a Plegian soldier; Tharja stuck next to him and cast Nosferatu on anyone who survived Chrom's attacks. A Wyvern Rider flung a short axe at the dark mage, but the weapon was deflected by the prince; he made sure that the owner didn't last long after that.

"Nice save," Tharja said to Chrom.

"Would you expect any less from me?" Chrom quipped. A barbarian was about to lob Chrom's head off but he was quite slow about it, slow enough for Chrom to beat him to the punch. "I've got your back."

"Aren't we such a gentleman today?" Tharja said. "Think you have a spare tome on you? My Nosferatu's about dead."

"I should have a few," Chrom said after stomp-kicking away an enemy. He then pulled out a sheet of paper that told him everything the Shepherds had in their convoy. "Let's see here, we have at least four of each arc-tier tomes in storage right now. Which one do you want?"

"I thought you had some spare tomes on your person," Tharja said.

"I can only carry five things on me at once," Chrom said. "Four of those things were my vulneraries." Chrom almost paid for his distraction when a dark mage cast Fire his way. Falchion absorbed and redirected the magic blast back at the sender, burning the unfortunate dark mage to cinders.

"Then how in the seven Hells did you pull that rapier out against Campari earlier?" Tharja asked.

"You took two of my vulneraries," Chrom answered. "After that I was able to pull a rapier out from the convoy. Watch." In a flash, three Arc- tomes materialized in the air before Chrom, stunning both Tharja and the soldier approaching him. Using the momentary lapse of distraction to his advantage, Chrom rushed the soldier and ran them through with Falchion, returning his attention to Tharja afterwards.

"What just happened?" Tharja asked him.

"I used telepathic magic to access the convoy," Chrom replied. "I can do such to either store or retrieve anything I want from storage anytime I want. Others can do so but only if they're close and making contact with me."

"You're just _full_ of surprises aren't you?" Tharja asked.

"Hopefully nothing unpleasant," Chrom said smiling. He tossed the tomes towards Tharja who caught them with magic, levitating the tomes about her frame. Testing out the new Arcwind tome Tharja cast the spell toward a wyvern rider, shredding both the rider and their mount with fatal precision. She smiled at having a sizeable amount of power back in her hands, wasting no time in firing off a blast of Arcfire towards her next victim. Chrom did his part in cutting open a dark mage who got up close, followed by blocking rapid blows from a myrmidon. Falchion outlasted the steel sword and sank itself deep inside of the broken sword's owner, his last expression being that of dying fury. Taking the myrmidon's place was a thief brandishing a killing edge, showing more skill in landing a hit on his target.

"Gah!" Chrom shouted from the injuries, trying to regain his composure. The thief was upon him again, and despite having some of his attacks deflected he managed to score another hit on the Ylissean prince. "Hey, Tharja—"

"Already done," the dark mage said, casting Arcfire at the thief while Chrom reached for his remaining vulnerary. The thief dodged a number of the flaming missiles but took one of them in full, staggering a ways back as Chrom recovered from his own wounds. With the situation reversed Chrom paid the crook back with interest, disarming him in the most literal sense before he decorated his body in red ribbons. The thief expired quickly afterwards, collapsing next to the loot they were making off with.

"Now let's see what you have here," Chrom said. Opening the ruffian's sack he found a large amount of bullion. "Of course it would be some money maker."

"That's kind of what thieves do," Tharja quipped. "They'll steal anything that will net them some gold."

"Unless their name is Gaius," Chrom said, "then it turns into 'anything that's sweet'." Neither of them had much time to say anything else on the matter when an Arcfire casting nearly razed them both on the spot. Right after the first spell barely whizzed by them a second one nailed Tharja dead in her center. It turned out to be a pair of dark mages who caught on to the pair and focused their attacks on them.

"_Augh_!" Tharja yelled. "You'll pay for that!" Tharja switched to her Nosferatu tome and cast the spell at the dark mage pair, but she missed them despite multiple targets being present. Infuriated, she cast the spell again attempting to aim at where the enemies would likely dodge toward, but neither of them moved an inch causing Tharja to miss a target twice. By then the pair finished readying another Arcfire combo to hit Tharja with, intending to cook the turncoat alive. They held their blazing hands up high and spoke the finals words to cast their magic.

"Hope you like the taste of your own medicine!" one of the dark mages shouted. But the double Arcfires never came after that, and before either of them knew it they were bleeding on the ground from a gaping hole in their chests.

"Hope _you_ liked the taste of Thoron!" Robin echoed.

"Robin!" Chrom was glad to see his tactician still supporting him. "But, I thought that you don't trust Tharja."

"I _don't_, but not as much as I did a little while ago," Robin said. "She's fighting for us at the moment and she is a very capable unit, but we're _going_ to have a proper talk once we reach Regna Ferox. So this is more or less keeping her alive until then."

"Gee, I'm touched," Tharja deadpanned despite her injury. "You _do_ care for me after all."

"Save the banter for later." Robin was convinced that the dark mage wasn't the dimwitted type so they made sure to keep tabs on her for their companions' sakes. But that didn't mean they wouldn't assist her at all; coming up from behind them was another thief who brandished a wyrmslayer, but they never got the chance to use it as Chrom gutted them. "Nice save, Chrom," Robin said putting emphasis on their lord's name.

"Save the backhanded compliments for later," Chrom said, mirroring Robin. "We get that you don't trust Tharja, but try to keep a lid over it okay?"

"…Yes sir," Robin sighed, returning to combatting other Plegians. Chrom handed Tharja the last of his vulnerary to get her back in shape as he stored the wyrmslayer sword away, though the dark mage seemed hesitant to accept it.

"Didn't you already drink out of that?" Tharja asked.

"Yes, but it should be fine," Chrom assured her. "We Shepherds take good care of our hygiene, so if you're worried about backwashed medicine then—"

"You know what, just give it here," Tharja said, feeling too exhausted to protest anymore. Chrom handed the woman his vulnerary flask and she silently prayed that it wasn't too contaminated, guzzling the last of the flask's contents down her throat. "_Gheck_, it _still_ tastes like crap."

"Even so, I personally hate 'flavored' medicine more than this," Chrom said. "That stuff covers up the bad taste with so-called 'better flavor' _and_ it sucks at its job. Its existence is almost like a crime."

"You're preaching to the choir there," Tharja quipped in agreement. "'Why hide the bullshit with _more_ bullshit' is what I always say."

"Exactly." Chrom helped Tharja to her feet and readied himself to finish off the rest of the Plegians who barred their escape. "Ready to wrap things up, my lady?"

"'Your lady'?" Tharja questioned. "Y—Oh my Gods, what_ever_." Despite Chrom's blatant attraction to her Tharja couldn't help but feel a smirk coming on, admitting—albeit to herself—that Chrom was fairly charming in his own way. The prince charged at the closest enemy in range and tore him open with a back slash, and Tharja flung Arcwind at another hapless wyvern rider. In response two soldiers attempted to ambush Chrom and Tharja but their efforts were in vain; they dropped like flies just as their predecessors had done and which their successors would soon do.

"We make a pretty good team," Chrom commented as he cut down another enemy officer. "It's almost as if I'm fighting alongside Robin."

"Because you use swords and we use magic," Tharja pointed out. "Still, I guess it's not too bad." Interrupting the conversation was a barbarian's short axe, though Tharja took the owner out quickly with Arcfire and resumed talking. "Speaking of your tactician, what's their deal?"

"Robin? Oh, well, we were ambushed by Plegian soldiers near our home thanks to the Hierarch who sold Ylisse out to Gangrel. Robin and I in particular got out of the battle pretty bad. Since then they've been extremely cautious around the rest of the Shepherds except me, moreso to newer recruits and anyone who switched to our side."

"So that's what you meant when you said I wasn't like the Hierarch."

"Yes. Robin's changed a lot from that incident, becoming more distrusting and paranoid than even _Frederick_. Even though they were always cautious around new people given their full-blown amnesia, it just got worse than what it was after that day."

"Yeah, amnesia will do that to a person. Can't really say that I blame them for ragging on me now."

"They've been having an assortment of nightmares ever since the incursion as well. Hold on for a second." Chrom took a break from talking and engaged a third thief. The brigand's guard was down so he barely registered his attacker from behind, narrowly halting his sudden death. Regaining his focus did not matter much as Chrom was already on him, but he would be damned to die in a wasteland without turning a profit with his new loot. His silver sword was mightier than Chrom's Falchion but he found his blade about to fail him soon. Chrom himself was not having any more mess from the brigand so he tripped him to the ground to pin him down. Panic was etched on the thief's face as he tried to overpower the prince over him, and unfortunately for him his ears caught the sound that would spell his doom; his silver sword shattered in his hands, and the blade of light made his acquaintance most unwelcoming. His body forced him to cough up his own blood in Chrom's face and he desperately tried to pry the man off of him. His action earned him a brutal tear in his chest cavity, fiercely gargling his blood in a scream and fading to black. Only when Chrom saw his life leaving him for good did he drag himself from his fallen body, and with his body having lost its strength Chrom plucked to sack of loot with little issue.

"Not bad," Tharja complimented. "You're starting to show a little of what you did earlier today."

"Am I?" Chrom asked slightly nervous. "Erm, I'm sorry for that display."

"Don't be," Tharja told him, giving him a dark smirk. "I always liked my men a little rough around the edges." Chrom didn't know whether he should take her compliment or not given that no one really condoned his ruthless behavior aside of her. He just gave her a smile of his own and claimed the dead thief's goods. It was a Seraph Robe; being a valuable item Chrom transported it into the convoy's storage until he could afford to use it. The Shepherds captain surveyed the battlefield and found almost all of the enemy completely vanquished. All that was left was one last thief coupled with a burly berserker going toe-to-toe with Robin. The tactician was putting up a good fight, even if they were outnumbered two-to-one, and Tharja's eyes caught sight of an item on the thief that she'd been looking for.

"Is that a Master Seal?" Tharja asked.

"It looks like it," Chrom said. "We already managed to snag two of them."

"_How_?"

"A villager gave one to us as thanks for saving their village, and we got the other one from the Secret Seller."

"Are you kidding me?" Tharja asked incredulous. "I've never even seen the Secret Seller my whole life."

"I guess that we were just lucky then," Chrom shrugged. "One's for me and the other is for Robin, though Robin insists that we save them until we have one for each of the Shepherds."

"Really now? Well then, you won't mind if I take this one?"

"Sure, be my guest, but be careful around Robin; they're pretty strict on who gets what in the Shepherds. In the meantime, I'll take on the berserker." With their intentions set they made their way to the remaining two opponents, with the other Shepherds and the Kahns nowhere in sight.

"Oh, hey Chrom," Robin greeted as they dodged a swing from the axe man. "Mind giving me a hand here?"

"Sure, I'll help you put this blackheart berserker down for good."

"Thank goodness, I—"

"Tharja, you're engaging the thief. Robin and I will take on the Plegian leader here."

"…What?" Robin asked. "I thought that we—"

"_We_ are taking the leader down," Chrom told them. "Not to offend Tharja, but I'm worried about how she'll handle someone who's stronger than myself. As the more physically oriented fighters we'll engage the stronger physical fighter of the two threats. And besides, this will be a good opportunity to test out our new recruit's strength against a single foe on her own."

"You _do_ know that I'm still here right?" Tharja said.

"Oh, I realize," Chrom said.

"Actually Chrom," Robin said. "Tharja can take a hit better than both of us either way. Have you forgotten that I can see things?"

"Wha—Oh, right."

"What are they talking about?" Tharja asked.

"They can look at people and see different aspects of us represented as numbers and statistics."

"And I can take a hit better than you when you said that you can handle physical attackers better than me?" Tharja asked, not bothering to hide the grin on her face, but it disappeared when her eyes met Robin's glare.

"Robin," Chrom said to get their attention, "let's try to stick to the plan alright?" The tactician appeared hesitant to listen to their lord but they eventually relented, taking up their silver sword as Chrom drew Falchion to the front. Tharja herself equipped her Arcwind tome to aid her accuracy against the speedy thief.

"A woman?" the man questioned chuckling. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' out here on the battlefield eh?"

"Taking out gutter rats like yourself," Tharja shot at the thief. "Really, _you're_ the one who shouldn't be out here."

"Oh, I know that," the thief asked smirking. "Why do ya' think I'm hightailin' it outta here? Ain't got no use for this shithole anymore."

"Actually, you do," Tharja said. "This could be your very own gravesite."

"Eh, not my style," the thief said. "I prefer fancy graveyards with lush green grass to this waste."

"Well, we don't always get what we want now do we?"

"Nope, but this ain't one of them times."

"Don't book that Hot-Spring trip just yet." After the two finished their banter they circled around each other like lions ready to swallow up their prey. The thief was the one to strike first, missing Tharja by a decent margin. She was about to counterattack the whiffed slash only to find a boot in her abdomen before she was sent skidding a few feet away. When her gaze returned to her opponent he was already on her with a swipe, only managing to miss by a significantly smaller window than before when she ducked. In a hurry Tharja quickly blasted the man away with Arcwind to create distance between them. It was effective in doing just that as Tharja had time to catch her breath before glaring at the man.

"Figures that a thief would use cheap tricks," Tharja said.

"All's fair in love and war," the thief said with a satisfied grin. "Don't be a scrub."

"'Scrub'? Oh it's _on_ now…" The second time around Tharja was the one who took the initiative, casting Arcwind the thief's way only to have the spell dodged even with Anathema at work. But the attack put the thief exactly where Tharja wanted him: in the air. She cast Arcfire as fast as she could to catch the ruffian before he could recover. The dark mage smirked at the man's surprised face before the flames engulfed him, and not one to let up on an assault she cast Arcthunder to follow up her magic pressure while the other tomes recharged. Like Arcfire, Arcthunder struck gold, sending the thief flying from the impact. He hit his back hard on compacted sludge but it did little to shake him.

"Heh, not bad," the thief complimented. "You're not as easy to put down as those other dark mages I've fought before."

"You won't find another dark mage on my level," Tharja smugly said.

"It's a shame that you actually managed to hit me though," the thief said, "'cause that means I have to put you down in the mud."

"You're welcome to try," Tharja taunted, punctuated with a 'come hither' gesture. The thief took her up on her challenge, dashing straight up to the dark mage. As she prepared to block an incoming attack the thief cancelled it out and tripped Tharja with a low scissor takedown. Tharja almost didn't realize what happened when her face crashed into the mud, and acting on reaction she pushed herself to get up; the thief stomped a boot down on her back with his sword raised high, and he was met with mud thrown into his eyes before he could swing down. The sneak attack gave Tharja the opportunity to throw the man off of her and stand.

"You'll pay for that!" the thief howled. He could afford to use his rain-soaked cape to wipe his eyes clean, only finishing halfway when another Arcwind barreled toward him. Right after the tornado tore through him the sound of an Arcfire casting caused him to stop and drop to the ground to avoid the fire projectile. Acting quickly he kicked his legs out from behind him to lunge straight at Tharja, ignoring the slight loss of vision. His hands reached for Tharja's throat and clutched it as if it was a part of his body while his legs took the dark mage's own from under her, forcing her to the ground a second time.

"Seriously…" Tharja choked out, "what is with you men tackling me to the ground?"

"Call it instinct," the man growled with none of his earlier mirth. "I'd hate to bring this to an end so soon, but you're really starting to get to me."

"Haven't heard that one before," Tharja quipped in spite of being suffocated. _'_Again_ I'm being choked, and this time it's for real. What're Chrom and Robin _doing_ right now?'_ Tharja tried to turn her head to see but the thief kept it in place as he squeezed Tharja's throat harder. Disrupting her further was a brutal head-butt from him, knocking some focus out of Tharja. The successive head-butts that followed after served to almost disorient the dark mage further to decrease her resistance and draw blood.

"Hmph, tuckered out already huh?" the thief said looking at the dazed woman beneath him. "I'll admit, you gave me a fair bit of Hell for a dark mage, least of all a woman. For that, you deserve a reward…" His blade was looking ready for its next meal as did its owner. "I'd kill you right here and now but I can't let such a pretty thing go to waste. Gotta deal with these hands first and—" The thief would wish that he had just killed Tharja instead after she dealt him one of her trade's most infamous hands: curses. She had spat in his face when he lowered himself enough for her to reach, and for a blood-infused loogie it did much more than blind the thief again. Tharja cursed her blood to act as a corrosive agent before mixing it with gunk inside her mouth, dispelling the curse as soon as she had cast it to prevent killing herself by mistake. "You _bitch‼_" the thief screamed as the loogie ate at his skin. "What the Hell did you do to me‽"

"Life lesson number one pal," Tharja spoke in a slight slur. "_Never_. Fuck. With a dark mage." Having secured her victory Tharja had one last pound of salt to rub in the thief's wounds; she equipped her dreaded Nosferatu tome to finish up the job and cast the spell on the thief through Anathema's hand, successfully capturing him. Little by little his soul itself was siphoned out of him, and Tharja took in the strength that it brought her; Tharja purred softly from watching the man become lethargic having his energy drained. She wasn't finished with him yet, wanting to suck him dry for all he had. She cast Nosferatu once more on him and curled her lips into a wicked smile, feeling his very essence fill her up to the brim. "Mmmmm…exquisite…" Anathema retracted itself from its host and retreated inside of its current home along with the less-than-helpful Hex. The thief's body had become nothing but a husk devoid of life and crumpled into the thick muck, leaving Tharja a very satisfied woman.

"_Ahhhh_ _yes_," Tharja moaned out, borderline high from the soul-stealing stimulation. She could hear the deceased man's own screams inside of her and gained a delight from the tormented sounds. Soon his voice faded away with his soul burning inside her to fuel herself. Tharja looked at her Nosferatu tome and caught it burning in a dark violet flame, having used up its capacity; the dark mage was somewhat disappointed in her weapon for not lasting longer but she could always obtain more of it elsewhere. "Another fool to feed myself with," Tharja remarked gazing at the corpse on the ground. "There's just one more prize for me to collect from you…" Kicking the body to its side her eyes took in the magnificent sight of gold and red miraculously clean from the earth. She had awaited the day she could get her hands on one of the Master Seals, and she was going to make good on the moment.

"Tharja!" Chrom's voice called out to her as he and Robin ran to her. "Are you alright? Robin and I—oh, you're…okay."

"Of course I'd be okay," Tharja said. "As sweet as it is – and I generally don't tolerate sweet – you worry too much about me. And we've barely known each other for a day."

"Well, that's because you're our newest member," Chrom said. "As captain of this army it's my duty to keep watch over my fellow Shepherds, especially new faces. And you're growing on me as well, so there's that." Tharja already knew why he was like such but she kept it hidden behind a knowing smirk, not wanting to embarrass her newest employer in front of the last person to do so. "It looks like you beat the thief; I'm assuming that there were little issues on your end?"

"Pretty much," Tharja answered, leaving out how difficult it actually was. Chrom didn't need to know, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Won myself a real beauty right here."

"Ah, the Master Seal. You're very lucky to get your hands on one of those."

"Damn right I am, and I am not going to pass this opportunity up."

"Hold on a second," Robin said, much to the other two's chagrin and expectations. "We don't know how many of these things are around in the world right now, and there could be units who could really make some good use out of this."

"Oh trust me, I'm very well worth it," Tharja boasted. "Besides, I'm the one who beat him, so to the deserving victor goes the spoils."

"Really now?" Robin challenged. "You have aided us in this struggle, but are you truly deserving of that there Master Seal?"

"Robin, give her a break already," Chrom said. "She switched to our side after a duel, helped in Emmeryn's rescue, and even fought alongside us with no compunctions, yet you _still_ distrust her?"

"Chrom, I know what you're about to say," Robin said, "she's done enough to prove her loyalty to us, yet a part of me can't completely agree with that sentiment. And I'm sorry for not being as open and trusting as you'd like me to be, but I can't just accept this as proof of her sincerity yet. I'm going to have a talk with her about serving the Shepherds to set the record straight for good."

"…If it will finally put all of your doubts about Tharja's honesty to rest then you have clearance to do so, but I don't want to hear of _any_ blackmailing on your end. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Robin said with a salute.

"Let's just catch up with the others and get going already." No one spoke anymore words afterwards, focused entirely on leaving the unpleasant area behind them all entirely. Tharja's face broke out into another of her eerie smiles as she looked forward to what travelling with Chrom had in store for her next.


End file.
